


The Shortest Days

by Magrathea



Series: All Our Time is Borrowed [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts, TWLOHA, The Trevor Project, Viktor's Tragic Backstory, advocacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:55:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 156,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magrathea/pseuds/Magrathea
Summary: This is a direct sequel to my fic "The Longest Hours." You can jump in here if you want, but if you do, you need to know:1). In the first fic, both Viktor and Yuuri were suicidal post-Sochi GPF and met each other on the hotel roof, where they talked each other out of jumping2). Yuuri was supposed to be on a medication that got left behind in Detroit and was experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which contributed to his suicidal state.3). Viktor is very in the closet because Russian homophobia is a real and dangerous thing in this AU.4). Viktor's tragic backstory is a thing. TL;DR: his mother tried to kill him and then killed herself when he was 12, and he was disowned by his father at 19 for getting involved with another man.5). Those two things combined let Vitya to his suicidal state.6). They fall in love quickly, even if they don't call it that for a long time.I'd be happiest if you gave the first part a glance before this, though. I worked really hard on it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! I am finally back with Part Two! Huge thanks to everyone who sent me and my family condolences in the comments of Longest Hours after my grandfather passed away. I've tried to pour my angst into writing this.
> 
> One of the commenters requested longer chapters, so I am aiming for longer chapters (looking more at page length than word count, since I type this all into a single .doc file and then split it into chapters for Denrhea and BluSkates to shred apart with comments and commas). I won't be posting every day like I did with the first story, though. I'm thinking two or three times a week. It will depend on my schedule; I am a PhD student, after all, and the semester is starting up soon.
> 
> Also, my ideas for this sequel aren't quite as defined as they were for Part One, so if you have any suggestions or anything you'd like to see, please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Also, also! BluSkates and Denrhea. Reeeeeaaaad theeiirrr stuuuuuffffff....

**December 15, 2015, Morning – Sochi, Russia**

 

From across the hotel lobby, Yuuri watched Viktor interacting with Yakov and the little Yuri and the Ladies’ silver medalist, a redhead named Mila. Viktor laughed and smiled, but after spending fourteen straight hours with the living legend sharing their deepest secrets, Yuuri could see that the cheer was forced. Yuuri pulled out his phone and texted the new contact.

 

_To Viktor:_

_I see you. how long have you been waiting to check out?_

 

He watched Viktor pull the phone from his pocket and read the text. A nearly imperceptible shift happened, softening his smile into something more genuine. Yuuri had done that. Yuuri had unlocked Viktor Nikiforov’s true smile. He was still half convinced the whole thing was a fevered dream or hallucination caused by the chemical riot inside his brain, but the image of that smile, the memory of those lips against his own made him acknowledge the truth of last night. Viktor typed a message then locked his phone before looking up and waving at Yuuri.

 

_From Viktor:_

_Not that long, but it would be better if you were over here._

 

Yuuri pulled his suitcase closer to the Russians, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to see Raquel Espinoza of the ISU and Watanabe Kyousuke of the JSF. Both officials also appeared to be en route to check out. With his heart still beating in his chest, he took a few deep breaths to try to regain calm.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” Espinoza said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” Yuuri pressed a hand to his chest, “I startle easily.”

“Are you feeling better, Katsuki-kun?” Watanabe asked.

Yuuri bowed to him. “ _Hai._ Forgive me for my performance, Watanabe-san,” he said. “I will do my best for Japan in the next competition.”

“Of course; we have great confidence in your abilities,” Watanabe said. He placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and guided him toward the checkout line. They were now right next to the Russian group. Watanabe lowered his voice.  “Katsuki-kun, Espinoza-san and I are both aware of your medical condition; we both hope you will be well enough to compete in nationals .”

Yuuri nodded. He’d nearly forgotten that somebody from both the JSF and the ISU had to approve his eligibility to compete with his prescriptions, as he would fail a standard drug test.  “Thank you for your concern. This week was…a combination of factors. I have an appointment scheduled with my doctor tomorrow, so hopefully I will have the all-clear to compete.”

“Yuuri,” Espinoza said, loud enough for the Russians to hear, “I was wondering what you’re studying in school. Your coach told us last night that this should be your last term coming up.”

Yuuri smiled. He’d chosen his majors for selfish reasons, but he was proud of the work that he’d done, even if it took him an extra year to do it. “Yes, it is. I’ve been studying psychology and queer theory. All I have left to do is to write my thesis.”

“I remember taking a psych class years ago,” Espinoza said. “It was interesting, but not enough to make me leave the track I was on. What’s your thesis on?”

“Um,” Yuuri glanced at Viktor and Yakov, then looked at the ground near his feet. He thought of Viktor, half over the guardrail on the roof of the 25-story hotel. He thought of Yakov, married for decades to a woman he would never love in order to hide who he was. Russia had too many laws, too many restrictions. He looked up and caught Viktor’s eye for a moment before turning back to Espinoza. “It’s on rates of mental illness in gay and bisexual teens and young adults in both Japan and the United States, and the different approaches used by both countries to address issues like suicide and self-harm among the target group. It’s, um,” he grew quieter, shuffled his feet and stared at his own toes, “a very personal project for me.”

Ahead of them, Yakov coughed and barked at the three Russian skaters. Yuri Plisetsky grumbled something under his breath before heading to the concierge counter to hand in his room key. Yuuri felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

 

_From Viktor:_

_Your thesis sounds amazing!_

_Sorry about Yakov; I know you don’t speak Russian, but he just swore a lot_

_It’s kind of…illegal…to talk about ‘non-traditional’ sexualities around minors…_

_I know you don’t know that_

_I heard that a man went to prison earlier this year_

_I don’t want you to go to prison_

_Russian prisons are the worst._

_Please don’t go to Russian prison_

 

Yuuri’s eyes popped open and he gasped in a small breath. “Katsuki-kun?” Watanabe asked, “Is everything alright?”

He shook himself. “Yeah, sorry. Um. My dog died earlier this week; I’m just getting some new information.” It wasn’t a lie, but two unrelated truths paired together created a misdirection, and he knew it. If he couldn’t do anything else, Yuuri could misdirect.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Espinoza said. “Would you like a hug?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Yuuri waved his arms in front of his torso. Viktor, Phichit, maybe Celestino—he could stomach physical contact from them, but anyone else… “Thank you for your concern.” From the corner of his eye, he could see the redhead, Mila, checking out.

Once the Russians had all turned in their room keys, Yuuri approached the concierge and slid the room key across the counter. He said goodbyes to both Watanabe and Espinoza before searching for a place to sit and wait for his coach.

He picked a cushioned bench in the back corner of the lobby. He sank into the red vinyl and pulled his suitcase close to his legs. Across the lobby, Viktor and the other Russians were having some kind of small argument. Yuuri hadn’t replied to Viktor’s texts, didn’t know what to say. Celestino hadn’t reached the lobby yet. Yuuri checked the time. 10:54 a.m. Ciao-Ciao only had six minutes left before checkout ended. Where was he?

Yuuri closed his eyes and ground into them with the heels of his hands. He didn’t know what they would do with him when he got back to Detroit, but he couldn’t go much longer without a genuine night’s sleep. The food he’d eaten at the early breakfast with Viktor and Yuri turned and rolled in his stomach.

 _What if Celestino wasn’t coming?_ Once the thought was there, it wouldn’t go away. Celestino wasn’t coming to checkout. He wasn’t coming. He hadn’t texted, hadn’t called. Was Celestino going to leave Yuuri? Celestino was going to leave Yuuri in Sochi. He was already on his way to the airport, already there. Was he waiting for Yuuri there? Was he mad that Yuuri wasn’t there yet? Did he leave Yuuri behind on purpose? Did Celestino hate him that much? He must really want to quit. Celestino left Yuuri in the hotel and wanted to quit and Yuuri was alone, alone, alone in a country where he could go to jail for talking to a teenager about being gay. He was alone in Russia. He was alone.

“Yuuri, can you hear me? Focus.”

His heart was beating in his ears and his breath was coming in ragged bursts. _Alone in Russia. Alone in Russia. Russian prison._

“Can I touch you, Yuuri?”

 _No_ . He didn’t get the word out, didn’t even see who was asking. He shook his head and felt his whole body thrash along with it. Pain bit into his arm. He remembered then that he was in public, having a public breakdown. After his failure. _No no no_ , his mind revolted against it.

“What do you need, Yuuri? Focus for me. What do you need?”

Yuuri forced himself to look up. Celestino was crouching in front of him, and Viktor was hovering in the background, watching. Celestino had a hand braced on the bench near his leg, but not close enough to touch or sense.  “Ciao-Ciao?” Yuuri could feel how hoarse his voice was as he spoke. He dragged in a deep breath, the air like soup in his lungs. “I—I didn’t see you.” He was crying. _Pathetic_ . Celestino would definitely quit after this. He had nowhere else to go if he didn’t have Celestino as his coach. He sniffed back his tears and dried his cheeks with the back of his left hand. “I thought you left already.” _I thought you left without me_.

“I went to a pharmacy,” Celestino said. “I got something that’s all-natural, but supposed to help you sleep. For the plane rides. If you want it later. I feel terrible about the way this week turned out, so I just wanted to find something that could help.”

“You went to a pharmacy?” His voice cracked.

“ _Sì_. I know our flight’s not until this evening, but if you want, we can go to the airport now and find a quiet corner where you can relax. You have your face mask, right?”

Yuuri nodded. “It’s in my carry-on.” He breathed in slowly and counted the beats of his exhale. He chanced a look toward Viktor; the older man’s face was full of concern. Yuuri looked at the floor. He’d managed to worry him again, even though he’d already promised to do better. Viktor didn’t deserve the stress of dealing with Yuuri; he just hadn’t realized it yet. Yuuri already prayed for and loathed the day when Viktor would leave. This was too good to be true, and he could already feel the tension waiting to break. Whether accidentally or intentionally, Yuuri was going to ruin this.

Viktor drew closer and sat on the bench next to Yuuri, the space between them still occupied by Celestino’s hand. “Hey,” he said. “Can I help?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I’ll be okay,” he said. It could be the truth, but it felt like a lie. “Once I get home. I will be okay.”

“Okay,” Viktor said. “We’re going to get an early lunch. Yuuri, you’re—um, you both are welcome to join us, if you’d like.”

Yuuri blushed. “I’d…um, I would like to, but…” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Celestino raised his eyebrows, but Viktor waved the concern off. “I’ve been hiding for decades. I can make it through a lunch without too much suspicion. Our flight’s at three, but it’s domestic, so we don’t have to be there too soon. What time are you leaving?”

“Seven.” Celestino answered. “We were just deciding on whether to go to the airport now or wait.”

“Great! Please come to lunch, Yuuri. I’m not ready to deal with Yakov on my own yet. Please?”

Yuuri looked from Viktor to Celestino. “Ciao-Ciao?”

“I have no idea what is going on,” Celestino said. “First I see you together at breakfast, now you’re inviting us both to lunch. I didn’t think you two knew each other.” The coach glanced from Viktor to Yuuri, who could feel his embarrassment turning his face a rosy pink. Celestino was one of the people who knew the extent of Yuuri’s _celebrity crush oh my god it’s not possibly real, it can’t be real, it’s a misread infatuation, there’s no way anyone as famous as Viktor—_

Viktor coughed, cautioned a glance over his shoulder toward the rest of his team. “I’m just having a personal crisis,” he said, “and Yuuri really helped me out last night.”

“You helped me, too,” Yuuri nearly swallowed the words, but they were out before he knew it. He felt flushed, dizzy. He looked at the ground, away from Viktor and Celestino. Last night—they’d both skipped the banquet and tried to kill themselves, and they’d both convinced the other that life was somehow worth living. Yuuri wouldn’t be alive without Viktor, but Viktor wouldn’t be alive without Yuuri.

They’d gotten each other through the night, but here in the daylight—how long would it take for Viktor to come to his senses about Yuuri? Yuuri ought to just disappear from his idol’s life for his own good. But even as he thought that, Yuuri’s heart and body revolted against the idea. Now that he knew so much more about Viktor than he’d ever known, or than what anybody else knew either, he couldn’t just leave him. Viktor was, in his own ways, just as lost as Yuuri and just as much a hazard to himself. Phichit had told him to keep himself together by taking care of Viktor, and he wanted to be able to do that.

No one had ever asked him to be the strong half of any type of relationship before, but Viktor begged him to promise not to vanish into the dawn. Viktor probably didn’t need Yuuri as much as Yuuri needed him, but no matter the level, Yuuri was needed—and wanted—for what he felt might be the first time in his life.

 

 

 

 

 

**December 15, 2015, Evening – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor stood away from the baggage claim turnstile, guarding his own suitcase, as well as Yakov’s and Yuri’s. Mila waited for her suitcase to emerge, tapping her foot in antsy impatience. The noise was beginning to bother Viktor. He was almost twenty-seven years old, and he hadn’t pulled an all-nighter since he was nineteen. The sound of her shoe on the linoleum made his skin crawl, left him feeling nervous and agitated. He wondered with a shock if this might be how Yuuri felt all of the time. Nervous and agitated.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. Yuuri should be boarding his plane by now.

 

_To Yuuri:_

_Hi! We just landed about ten minutes ago_

_Most of our bags came through right away, but we’re still waiting on one_

_Are you still waiting or are you already on the plane?_

 

Viktor locked his phone to keep himself from watching and waiting for a response. If Yuuri was already on the plane, he might not even receive the text. He hoped that Yuuri would reply. When the phone vibrated only a few seconds later, Viktor couldn’t help but smile.

 

_From Yuuri:_

_In line to board_

_Last boarding group_

_Ciao-Ciao gave me knockout drugs_

_They’re “all-natural” but I have my doubts_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_I hope you get some sleep! I feel miserable right now_

_Maybe it’s good I never had the whole college experience_

_I definitely can’t pull all-nighters like I used to_

 

The reply didn’t come immediately. A minute passed, then two, then three. Mila’s bag appeared, and their group convened to begin walking toward the overnight lot where Yakov had parked. Viktor almost didn’t feel it when his phone finally vibrated again.

 

_From Yuuri:_

_Sorry I kept you up all night_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_DON’T BE I’D DO IT AGAIN_

_I’D DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT_

 

Yakov pulled up in front of Viktor’s apartment building and helped him dislodge his luggage from the trunk. On the curb next to the car, Viktor hesitated, then pulled Yakov into a hug. Yakov reacted much like Yuuri had the night before when Viktor had embraced him for the first time—a stiff pat on the back and a rigid, frozen spine.

“Thank you, Yakov,” Viktor said.

“It’s just a ride home. Like I’ve always done.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “I was being difficult last night, so while my mind’s clearer, I just wanted to make sure I said it. Thank you, Yakov. For everything.” He hugged the older man again before breaking away and dashing toward the door of his building, leaving a confused Yakov to return to the car and to delivering Mila and Yuri to their rooms in the dorms.

Once he got inside, Viktor checked his phone.

 

_From Yuuri:_

_I have to put my phone on airplane mode now_

_You can message me later if you want, but I won’t see it until we get to London_

_Last night was important to me_

_Okay, the flight attendant is glaring at me gotta go_

_Sorry_

_bye_

 

Viktor smiled. He could imagine Yuuri on the airplane, furtively texting while a woman in a sharp pencil skirt stared him down until he locked the phone and hid it away in the seatback pouch in front of him. In the night they’d spent together, Viktor had seen so many different facets of Yuuri, but he knew that the other man still teemed with unexplored depths. Viktor wanted nothing more than to be the man to uncover those depths. He wanted, and he smiled as his heart ached for Yuuri 

The doorman chuckled. “Finally met a girl you like, Viktor Andreievitch?" 

Viktor startled, took a deep breath. “It’s a secret, Pavel Nikolaievitch, but perhaps I met someone.” He had met a boy. Just this morning, he’d sworn to stop hiding who he was, but when faced with Pavel Nikolaievitch and his hearty chuckle, Viktor slipped into his shell. He wanted to show the doorman picture after picture of Katsuki Yuuri, but he didn’t. He played coy. Deceived. He couldn’t hide his excitement, but he could mislead people for a while until the butterflies died down. Then once those around him forgot, he could run away to be with Yuuri. He hated lying, but he didn’t know how else to function.

Yuuri would probably be disappointed in him, but there was nothing else Viktor could do.

Inside his apartment, the air was still and the refrigerator was empty of everything except a bottle of white wine. Tomorrow, he would go pick up Makkachin from the kennel and come home to sleep with his arms around the big dog. Tonight, he would drink wine.

Yuuri was hopefully asleep on an airplane, and he was alone with a bottle of wine. Viktor popped the cork out to of the neck and poured generously into a glass. On his couch, he watched videos of Yuuri’s routines, then Chris’s, then Cao Bin’s. When the glass was empty, he poured again. A notification appeared on the top edge of the screen, and he paused the video to open it.

 

_From Chris:_

_So how did things go with that gorgeous ass?_

 

Viktor was alone in his apartment; he knew he was alone. That didn’t stop him from looking over his shoulder to double-check.

 

_To Chris:_

_I wonder if they can read my texts_

_I watched this documentary on the American government spying on its people_

_Do you think they do that here?_

_Or what if someone hacked my phone?_

_I mean, it’s encrypted_

_But still_

 

_From Chris:_

_I’m not sure what this has to do with my question_

_I’m asking about your dry spell_

_And if it ended last night_

 

_To Chris:_

_Chris…_

_…_

 

Viktor thought about last night again, how Yuuri took charge when they kissed, how he’d panicked when they went too far. He thought about the half-moon cuts on Yuuri’s forearms, injuries caused by his desire to keep Viktor safe, to give Viktor the choice of when and where to come out, without being discovered in bed with a competitor. They hadn’t had sex, but they were…were they friends? Boyfriends? Viktor wanted to date Yuuri properly, court him and lavish him with affection. He wanted Yuuri to do the same for him, to whisk him off his feet and seduce him with his deep eyes. As long as Viktor lived in Russia, represented Russia internationally, they would be resigned to stolen kisses in secret hallways, always hidden, always hiding. Yuuri was out; Yuuri was proud of it. Viktor couldn’t even imagine how much bravery that would take.

 

_To Chris:_

_Do you think I should retire?_

 

_From Chris:_

_Okay, Viktor, what is going on?_

_This is also completely not answering my question._

 

_To Chris:_

_If I retire, I could travel more. And actually experience the places where I go_

_The different cultures and customs_

_The different laws…_

 

_From Chris:_

_You want more than a one-night stand with this guy, huh._

_How does Yuuri feel?_

_Does he even know your preferences?_

 

_To Chris:_

_I even said it out loud._

 

_From Chris:_

_You WHAT?_

_I’m so proud of you!_

_Viktor, does this mean you’re getting ready to make a public statement?_

_Viktor?_

_Mássimo and I support you, whether or not you ever come out, you know. You don’t have to become a gay figurehead or a political activist if you don’t want to. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do._

_I would love to see you feel free to be yourself, though._

 

_To Chris:_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_I’m scared…_


	2. Chapter 2

**December 16, 2015, Late Morning – Windsor, Canada**

Yuuri bounced his knee in the examination room. Dr. Kyper usually met with him at her private practice, but today she’d already been scheduled to do rounds at the hospital _or maybe she just thought it would be faster for them to process him into inpatient_. A nurse came through, drew blood, checked his pulse and blood pressure. Phichit and Celestino sat on either side, and Celestino’s wife, Francesca, was running errands while she waited for them. His phone buzzed.

 

_From Viktor:_

_Hey, I just got home with Makkachin!_

_{img}_

 

Yuuri grinned.

 

_To Viktor:_

_At the hospital now_

_Waiting for Dr. Kyper_

_I might not have my phone if they want me to go inpatient_

_Sorry_

_I don’t want to be in._

 

Yuuri didn’t know what would happen if he went inpatient. Would Viktor lose interest in him if they weren’t in touch for a few days? A week? He knew in his gut that Dr. Kyper was going to recommend it, but he didn’t have time to spend sitting in a psych ward. His relationship with Viktor aside—were they friends? Acquaintances who’d kissed? Lovers?—Yuuri had to prepare for Nationals. Three days. He could swing a stay of three days without any impact on his skating.

Yuuri jumped at the sound of a knock on the door. Dr. Kyper came in carrying a clipboard and pulled the door shut behind her. “Hi, Yuuri,” she said. She nodded to Celestino and Phichit. “Are you more comfortable today with the company?”

He turned to Phichit, who gave him an encouraging smile. “I think so. I’m—I—I’m…”

“How long has it been since you’ve taken your current prescriptions?”

“About a week. They fell out of my bag when I was packing for Sochi. I, um. We had some of the old script, so I took that for a few days, but we ran out of it, too. Phichit thinks I’m in withdrawal.”

She glanced at the information on his chart and flipped to the second page on her clipboard. “Can you tell me a little bit about your symptoms?” She pulled a pen from her breast pocket and poised to write.

Yuuri took a deep breath. He didn’t want to tell her, but he knew it would be easier and faster to just get it all out now. “Panic attacks, lots of them, I didn’t sleep at all for days. I’ve been frustrated. Really frustrated. I cut my arm with my fingernails by accident while I was having a panic attack. I tried to kill myself again. Um. I didn’t. Kill myself. Someone talked me down.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit jumped out of his seat. Yuuri’s chest caved in as he withdrew into himself.

Celestino gripped his shoulder. “Yuuri, when did this happen?”

Yuuri put his hands over his ears and shook his head. _Stupid. Better ways to say it. Stupid. They’re pissed off._ He took a deep breath, measuring the inhale and the exhale. He was ripping the band-aid off; of course it would be hurtful to them.

Phichit paced a small circle in the center of the room. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you off the line.”

Celestino pushed the fingers of his free hand into his hair. “The only night I left you alone was the night of the banquet.”

“Gentlemen, please,” Dr. Kyper raised her voice. The two men stopped. When they looked at Yuuri, Celestino straightened in his chair and Phichit returned to his seat. The doctor fixed them both with a stare into submission. “Yuuri wanted you both in here, but I will kick you out if you overwhelm him again.” She turned her attention to Yuuri, gently tapped his shoulder. “Yuuri, it’s over. Are you with me?”

Yuuri exhaled slowly. “Ye-yes. Sorry. I didn’t want to say anything until we got here, since it ended up okay. I…I knew that people would be mad.”

Dr. Kyper wrote a note on Yuuri’s chart. “Okay. No one in here is mad at you. Your friends are just concerned. Can you tell me what happened?”

Yuuri looked at the ground. “I was going to…I wanted to…I was on the roof, and I went there to jump. But there was another person up there, and he was also…he was going to…we talked instead. He, um. We made a pact, I guess. I mean, I know people make suicide pacts, but it’s more like an anti-suicide pact. I promised him…I don’t want to kill myself right now. Not like I did two nights ago. If Vik—oh shit.” Yuuri paused and covered his mouth with his hand. “Forget that. If _that person_ hadn’t been up there, I would’ve done it. He said that if I hadn’t shown up when I did, he would’ve done it, too. I…I don’t know what that means for us, but I think we’re kind of connected now? I promised him I wouldn’t fight your decisions for what will help me get better. I promised Phichit-kun, too.”

Phichit threw his arms around Yuuri and squeezed him into a tight hug. “I am so glad you are alive, Yuuri. Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Yuuri whispered. “I promise.”

Dr. Kyper looked over her notes. When a nurse knocked on the door and handed her a folder, she read through its contents. “Okay, Yuuri,” she said after several minutes. “I have an idea of what’s best for you right now, but you do have a few options that should all be helpful in their own way. First, your friend is right—it does look like you’re experiencing benzo withdrawal. Now, we can either get you back on course with Ativan over the next couple of weeks and keep your prescriptions the same after that, or we can use this accident and safely guide your body through withdrawal in a controlled manner.”

Yuuri shifted in his seat; his knee began bouncing again. “If I go back on Ativan, will I have to go through this again?”

“It’s highly likely,” the doctor said. “I would recommend we gear away from it, since we know that you’ve developed a physical dependency on the drug. It is a shame, though, because you respond so well to it for your anxiety. But I think in this case, it’s time for it to go.”

“Okay. What happens if I choose to go off it?” He asked it tentatively, hoping he didn’t already know the answer.

“Inpatient.”

Yuuri sighed and gritted his teeth. That word came like the last nail in the coffin of his career. “I thought so.”

“That’s what want for you either way, since you’ve been experiencing suicidal thoughts and taking suicidal actions, but I don’t want to force it on you. You need to get help, at least five days of constant care if you want to learn how to manage your withdrawal symptoms. Possibly more.”

Yuuri nodded and shivered. Five days. He turned to Celestino. “Can I afford it? Five days off the ice? Nationals is in two weeks.”

Celestino pulled Yuuri into a quick hug. “You can’t _not_ afford it, Yuuri. Your life is so much more important than your skating. If you have to miss Nationals, I’ll make a plea with the JSF to send you to Four Continents and Worlds regardless. You deserve the chance to compete your programs at your best, and if five days in the behavioral health wing here is going to give that to you, then you need to take it.”

“About that,” Dr. Kyper interrupted. “Here’s where you have another option. Normally, we’d have you here so that I can keep closer tabs on you myself, but there aren’t any available beds right now. We can either send you to our sister hospital in Detroit, which might be closer to where you live, or we can send you to a separate facility just north of the city limits. I’d personally prefer to take you there, since they’ll be equipped to help you specifically with the withdrawal symptoms.”

Yuuri looked nervously between Phichit and Celestino. To Dr. Kyper, he said, “You want me to go to rehab.”

“This facility, The Meadows—it’s part psychiatric care and part rehabilitation. You’ll have access to good psychiatric care as well as good medical care for your withdrawal symptoms. Technically, Yuuri, I don’t need your permission to send you, but I don’t want this to be involuntary. If you’d rather be on the American side of the border for an inpatient stay, that’s fine, too. In my opinion, though, you will be best off in the long run if you go to The Meadows.”

Yuuri couldn’t fight her. He promised Viktor.  “Five days,” he said. “I’ll be able to go home in five days?”

“Hopefully, yes,” she said.

Yuuri hesitated. Rehab for an addiction that had been forced upon him, that he’d never asked for or sought out, for a drug he’d never abused. Rehab. He knew that this situation was his fault for leaving his meds behind, but he also knew that if he hadn’t been on them for four and a half months, then he wouldn’t be going through this right now. He wasn’t addicted. He wasn’t. _Physical dependency_ sounded much better in his head, and _psychiatric care and rehabilitation_ didn’t quite sound like _rehab_ if he closed one ear. Five days seemed like an eternity, but if he could trade five days for any amount of sleep— “Okay. I’ll do it.”

 

 

 

 

 

**December 19, 2015, Afternoon – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor’s phone never rang during practice—it hardly ever rang at all, but it was ringing now, and Viktor couldn’t tell if Yakov was confused or agitated. He ignored Yakov’s scowl as he made a mad dash to the boards, where Georgi waited to hand him the phone.

“I don’t recognize this number,” Georgi said. “It’s got a different country code.”

Viktor took the phone, saw the Canadian country code and answered the call. “ _Privet_?”

“Viktor? It—it’s me, Yuuri.” The voice on the other end was quiet, distant. The last time they’d talked, Yuuri had told him he was leaving his phone with Phichit and that he’d let Viktor know when he was back home.

“Yuuri!” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Are you home already?”

Yuuri didn’t respond right away, and Viktor could hear the sound of deep breaths on the line. When he did speak, Yuuri said, “No. I, um. I wrote down your phone number before Phichit left so I could call you. I hope you don’t mind. I probably should’ve asked first, but I literally didn’t even go home before coming here, so I was kind of disoriented that first day.”

Behind him, Mila and Yuri were practicing triple jumps. Viktor plugged his open ear with a finger to hear Yuuri better. “Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you.”

“I—they—I don’t—they want me to stay longer than they told me. If I stay too long, I’ll miss Nationals, but I keep—I hurt myself again—like I did in the bathroom. It was an accident. I didn’t know it happened until someone pointed it out. It’s—it’s too much. Sorry. I’m so sorry. What time is it there? You must be busy. I’m so sorry. I can’t talk long.”

Viktor began skating toward the gate. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just at the rink. You’re in the hospital?” He clipped his guards into place and moved toward a bench to sit down. Georgi leaned on the boards nearby, but didn’t come closer.

Yuuri inhaled before he said, “No, I’m at a rehab place. It’s…it’s kind of nice, but…I told my doctor about trying to jump off the roof, and so I’m kind of locked up here. The hospital was full, so it’s supposed to be the best choice because of the whole not taking my meds, but most of the people here are actual drug addicts. Like, illegal stuff or stuff obtained illegally. I never did anything like that, and some of the people in my ward have done really violent things in order to get drugs before. The psychiatrist on staff here is good, but the people freak me out. It’s…I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

Viktor didn’t know what to say. “No, you didn’t. It was just an accident. People lose things and forget to pack things all the time—important things. I wish I could help.”

“It’s not your fault; I got myself stuck here.”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I know that. I just care about you. So, what happened? They told you a set amount of time when you went in, and now they want more?”

“Mmhmm. I just want to go home. I haven’t even seen Phichit’s hamsters yet.”

“How much longer are they thinking?”

“I don’t know, maybe another week. I might get out in time to catch the plane to Nagano, but I know I won’t be able to skate my best at Nationals. I have free time and access to an open space where I can practice my choreography, but I haven’t been on the ice since the free skate in Sochi. I feel like I’m going insane. Except I’m literally in a secure ward in a mental health and rehab facility along with hardcore drug addicts and alcoholics. I must already be insane.”

“You’re not insane,” Viktor said. “At least no more than I am.”

“Viktor, how did we meet?”

“Touché.”

Silence fell on both sides of the line. Eventually, Yuuri’s voice picked up, “So how are you doing? Have you talked to anyone yet?”

Viktor sighed. He didn’t want to talk about himself, not at the rink, but he knew Yuuri wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t concerned. “Not yet,” he said. “Well, Chris, a little. Don’t roll your eyes at me!”

“I’m not!”

“You are, though. I can sense it. I swear, Yuuri. Look, you’re doing it again. I can hear it in your breathing. If you roll your eyes that much, you’ll get dizzy.”

“Viktor, you promised.”

“I know.” He had tried, twice already, to talk to Yakov. The first time, Yakov had gotten a phone call from one of Mila’s sponsors, and the second, the little Yuri had interrupted in a huff, demanding Yakov come pay attention to his choreography practice. He talked a bit with Chris about his fears regarding Yuuri, but about his own depression—he could still barely accept the word in his mind. “I—I’ll talk to Chris. Tonight.”

“Okay,” Yuuri exhaled what Viktor recognized as a sigh of relief. “Good. Um, sorry, hold on a sec—” Viktor waited through three seconds of silence, then Yuuri returned. “My time’s up. I have to go.”

Viktor swallowed, his throat suddenly thick and heavy. He felt like crying. “Alright,” he said. “Call me again, next time you can.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Never. I love hearing your voice. And I’m worried about you.”

“I—you don’t—I—I’m worried about you, too, Viktor. They’re glaring at me now, I really gotta go. Bye, Viktor.”

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Bye.” Viktor listened until the line went dead, then locked his phone. He dropped it in a pile of cell phones along with Georgi’s and Mila’s then made his way back to the ice.

While he skated a quick lap around the rink, Georgi fell in line beside him. “Everything okay?”

Viktor nearly skated into the boards. “What? Oh, yes. Sorry. I was distracted.”

“It seemed like an intense phone call. You sure everything's okay?”

Viktor pasted on his media grin. “Of course. A friend of mine is sick, but he’s getting better, so there’s really nothing to worry about. Thanks for the concern, though.”

Georgi patted Viktor’s shoulder, pulling his hand away quickly. “Tell Chris I hope he feels better.”

“It’s not…Chris is fine,” Viktor said. “I do have other friends besides Chris, you know.”

“Of course, Viktor,” Georgi smirked. “I forgot about Makkachin.”

Viktor sighed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re right,” he whispered. Georgi’s expression fell back into concern, but Viktor sped up and took off toward the center of the rink. After a perfectly-executed quad Salchow or two, his mind began to feel clearer. He knew Georgi had been teasing him, that he hadn’t meant to hurt Viktor’s feelings over his inability to form lasting connections with other human beings, but he couldn’t help himself—Viktor was hurt.

Feelings, emotion…Just a few days ago, Viktor had been convinced that none of them were worth having anymore. Everything from happiness to anger to sorrow came through his brain muted and thin. He felt, but his range of feelings reached from a scale of bored to empty to hopeless. Yuuri had shaken him up, reset some wiring, and now Viktor’s emotions were acting on hyper-drive as if to make up for lost time. Part of him hated the transformation and resented Georgi for making jabs at his personal life that he’d normally be able to laugh off with a wave of his hand, but part of him was relishing in the _excitement_ of small indignations hurting his feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 21, 2015, Evening – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor pulled Makkachin into his lap and took a deep breath before tapping the call icon on his screen. He listened to the ringing. He waited. Eventually, he heard a click on the line. Chris answered, “Viktor, _mon ami_ , you never call. Is there something the matter, darling?”

“Chris,” Viktor said, “Hi. Um, is now a bad time?” With his free arm, he hugged his dog tighter.

“Not at all. I just got home from the rink. Mássimo is still out, won’t be back for another couple of hours. I’m a pinch worried about you, darling.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just—you texted the other day that you were scared, then you didn’t reply to any of my questions after that.”

“I know. Sorry for dropping that on you.”

“I did some research, Viktor. It’s not illegal for you to be gay in Russia, so even if the government were watching your texts or listening to your phone calls, there’s nothing they can do about it.

“Technically, no, it’s not illegal to _be_ gay. It’s just illegal to talk about it in public. Or display it in public. Or talk about it in private with teenagers. Or—”

“If you’re that concerned, why don’t you come to Geneva and work with me and Josef? Switzerland isn’t perfect, but you’ll have a lot more peace of mind. We can take you out, get you a nice boy. You don’t have to be so isolated.”

“I like Yuuri,” Viktor said, then held his breath. Even saying it to Chris, someone he’d known for over a decade and was actively in a same-sex relationship, was difficult. Before this week, he’d never actually talked about his sexuality with the other skater, just let Chris pick up on cues over the years until the Swiss man and his boyfriend had begun dragging him to gay bays in Paris and pointing out men they thought might be Viktor’s type. Viktor knew he liked dark hair. He knew he liked muscles. He knew he didn’t like bears—facial hair reminded him too much of his father. Chris and Mássimo picked away at Viktor’s body language until they could pinpoint exactly the man that he’d like in each club they went to, but Viktor could never bring himself to approach their choices. He could never allow himself the pleasure, even if it were only for one well-hidden night. Vodka alone with his dog, that was his forte. Shared champagne with a stranger was beyond him, existed outside of his skill set. He remembered Phichit’s story of what could have happened if both he and Yuuri had gone to the banquet…if it was Yuuri drinking it, champagne with a stranger would be the most beautiful sight in the world.

Chris hummed. “I always thought you’d be a good pair. Yuuri is very skittish, darling. Maybe even more so than you. He’s a wonderful boy, but I think he has a pinch of _anxiété sociale_ . And he absolutely adores you, which might make wooing him _more_ difficult.”

“I…Chris, I don’t know how to do this. We…I met him on the roof of the hotel.”

“Yes, I remember. You were skipping the banquet together. Why did you decide to go up there? It was cold out.”

“No, you don’t…that’s where we met. I was already up there, and he came alone.”

“Oh.”

“I was…I was going to jump. He talked me down.”

Chris was silent on the line for a full minute. Viktor didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know how to apologize to one of his only friends for telling him something so upsetting. He winced and waited for the other skater to speak, prepared to be rejected. He didn’t know who else he could talk to besides Chris—Yakov, maybe, but he’d already tried and failed twice.

Viktor could hear a door shutting over the phone, the sound of a kiss. Mássimo had gotten home early. He half-listened to Chris trade pleasantries, heard his name mentioned twice. When Chris came back on the line, he said, “Viktor, how can I help you?”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to help you. I’m asking you to show me how.”

“You’re not…you don’t hate me? You’re not angry?”

Chris took a breath. When he spoke, it was calm, even-toned, like he was forcing himself to stay level for Viktor’s sake. “I don’t hate you, darling. I am furious at myself for failing to see…How long have you been fighting this?”

Viktor scoffed; he couldn’t help himself. “I should’ve died when I was twelve. All the rest of it is just borrowed time.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**December 24, 2015, Early Morning – Windsor, Canada**

Yuuri climbed into the back seat of Francesca’s car. Celestino was in the front, his luggage for Japan in the trunk. “I want to go home.”

“We’re on our way there, Yuuri,” Celestino said, “but we also have a flight to catch in five hours and a trip to the pharmacy before we do that.”

“I haven’t even been on the ice once since the final. I’m going to lose.”

“Do you want to withdraw? There’s still time, you know.”

Yuuri thought about it. He wanted to win, but more than anything, he didn’t want to quit. “I’ve already got enough withdrawal in my life. Let’s just go.”

Francesca drove down a long, private path out of The Meadows. “Do you have your script with you?”

Yuuri pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and passed it to Celestino. “They should’ve already sent it over, but I have it just in case.”

Celestino read through the typed sheet and handed it back to Yuuri. There were three drugs listed, but only one caught his eye. “Lithium? Isn’t that more for schizoid disorders?”

“They said it works for depression and they wanted to try it. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Kyper once a week for the next few weeks for adjustments and stuff while I work up to therapeutic levels.” Yuuri stretched and spoke through a yawn, “I should do a skate to that Evanescence song. Ciao-Ciao, can I change my exhibition skate?”

“Maybe not for Nationals. We can talk about it for Four Continents if you’re serious, but I don’t know if we’ll have time to come up with a new skate that quickly while refining your current programs.”

“I wasn’t serious,” Yuuri snapped. He froze. “Sorry. I’m not…I didn’t mean that.”

Celestino sighed and massaged his temples with one hand. “Let’s just get some breakfast, okay? Chessie?”

“On it,” Francesca said.

She drove them to the nearest McDonald’s and pulled into the parking lot. They ate inside without concern toward Yuuri’s training diet, quiet through the entire meal. With the taste of hotcakes and sausage still on their tongues, the trio made their way to Yuuri’s regular pharmacy. Once they had the orange bottles safely tucked into Yuuri’s backpack, Francesca made her way toward Yuuri’s apartment.

Yuuri felt numb while he pulled his keys from his pocket and turned them in the lock. The last time he’d been in this apartment, he’d been excited and nervous, anticipating his first-ever Grand Prix Final. He’d let Phichit post pictures of them both with Yuuri’s suitcases and Team Japan jacket. He’d carried one of the hamsters around on his head for so long he’d forgotten the little dude was there and nearly walked out with it burrowing around in his hair.

Phichit deserved a better roommate.

With shaky hands, he pushed the door open. He walked through, followed by Celestino and Francesca. Before he could process it, Yuuri was crying. There, above his head, Phichit had hung a banner that read: _Welcome Home, Yuuri!_ The younger skater was asleep on the couch in the living room, curled around a wrapped box.

At the sound of the door closing, Phichit stirred and stretched himself awake. “Yuuri!” he croaked, voice rough with sleep, “ _Okaeri!_ ”

“ _Tadaima,_ Phichit-kun,” he replied.

With a speed and dexterity Yuuri could never muster before nine in the morning, Phichit launched himself at Yuuri and wrapped his friend in a tight hug. “I missed you so much.”

Yuuri relaxed in Phichit’s arms. “We talked on the phone yesterday.”

Phichit squeezed Yuuri once more before letting him go. “Don’t care. Not enough Yuuri-time. And you’re already going away again.”

“Sorry. It wasn’t my idea to spend eight days at that place. I barely convinced them to let me leave today.”

Celestino cleared his throat. “We have about an hour until we have to get to the airport. Are you sure you want to do this, Yuuri? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“I already said that I’m going,” Yuuri said. “So I’m going. I just need to pack.”

“I’ll help you,” Phichit said. “Oh, also, I got you this.” He handed the wrapped box to Yuuri.

Yuuri sat on the couch and tore through the paper. Inside was a shipping box from ThinkGeek. He smiled and cut through the tape. He pushed the cardboard flaps down and pulled out something triangle-shaped. The label read _Legend of Zelda Triforce Light_. “Woah. What the fuck is this awesomeness?”

“It projects the Hyrule Crest when you turn it on. I got batteries, too, don’t worry.”

“This is so cool. You—you didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“Shut up,” Phichit said. He sank onto the couch next to Yuuri. “Not only is it Christmas, it’s also a celebration of your first GPF! And also, it’s Christmas! A.k.a. Viktor Nikiforov’s birthday.”

“Oh!” Yuuri sat upright. “Viktor! Phichit, do you have my phone? I told him I’d let him know when I got home.”

Phichit jumped back up and disappeared into his bedroom. When he came back, he tossed the phone with the blue poodle-print case to Yuuri. “So you’re going to have to tell me all about this thing with Viktor Nikiforov suddenly being your top contact and not me.”

Yuuri unlocked the screen and sent a text.

 

_To Viktor:_

_Got my phone back!_

 

Yuuri glanced at Celestino and Francesca, who had moved into their kitchenette and were making coffee. “Come help me pack,” he pulled Phichit into his own bedroom. With the door closed behind them, he said, “So he kissed me.”

“Yuuri! Way to go, you big slut; good for you!”

He flinched. “Um. Actually, Phichit, I know it’s funny most of the time, but I was wondering if maybe we could drop the whole ‘slut’ thing.”

Phichit’s smile wavered with concern, but he didn’t press. “Sure. I just get so excited for you. I live vicariously through you, you know.”

“Why would you want to live vicariously through me? I’m boring and crazy and make bad decisions.” Yuuri picked up his suitcase and opened it on the bed. “Did you do my laundry for me?”

“It’s not a big deal, and you’re not crazy. Or boring.” He began sorting through Yuuri’s clean clothes and tossing items toward the suitcase.

“You’re not fighting the ‘bad decisions’ part.”

“I can play two lies and a truth.”

“I thought it was two truths and a lie.”

“I thought that Arthur’s character was much better in _The King and The Skater III_ than in the original, that the step sequences the King learned were most difficult in the second movie, and that the original is definitely leagues above all other films about skating.”

“Most of that makes no sense.”

“See? Two lies and a truth. Which one’s the truth?”

“Objectively,” Yuuri said, “It’s definitely the first one. _The King and the Skater III_ Arthur is by far the most realistic Arthur in existence. More realistic than the aardvark that teaches kids to read, and that kid’s seen some shit.”

Phichit had a shirt in his hands, and instead of throwing it toward the suitcase, he balled it up and tossed it at Yuuri’s head. “Hey! Do not. Go there. We do not discuss the atrocity that is _The King and the Skater III_.”

Yuuri threw the shirt back to Phichit. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

Phichit shook the shirt out and refolded it before handing it to Yuuri. “Anyway, my sweet gay boy,” he said, “tell me more about your dalliance with Perfect Nikiforov.”

Yuuri shrugged and placed the shirt in the suitcase. “He’s not perfect, actually. But that’s—I guess that’s perfect in its own way? He wants to see me again.”

“Good. Great. Yes. I ship it.”

“Slow down,” Yuuri said. “It’s complicated. He’s not exactly…He was…I don’t want to get in the way.”

Phichit sat on the edge of the bed. “You could help each other, you know. What? I did notice you started to say he was the one who talked you down when we were at the hospital last week. Plus, he was there the second time I called you. Is—does he have the same kind of problems as you?”

“No, it’s…I don’t know if I should talk about it, really. Not without his permission. But it’s not the same.”

Yuuri’s phone dinged with a new notification. He jumped a little, startled by the noise, before unlocking his phone.

 

_From Viktor:_

_Yay! My short program is tonight. Are you going to make it to your Nationals? I can’t wait to see you skate again :)_

 

Yuuri smiled while he typed out his reply. From the corner of his eye, he could see Phichit grinning like a madman.

 

_To Viktor:_

_Yeah, I’m packing now._

_SP is on 26_

_It’s gonna be tight_

_I haven’t practiced since the GPF（；¬＿¬)_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Oh no! That’s not good!_

_But you were taking care of yourself_

_I like you, so that’s more important._

_I’m rooting for you!_

 

_To Viktor:_

_Thanks_

_I’m rooting for you, too_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese and Russian Nationals, as told through texts

 

**December 26, 2015 Evening – Yekaterinburg, Russia**

_From Yuuri:_

_Good luck on your FS_

_I know you’ll win tho_

_Doesn’t mean slack off!_

_Sorry I’m weird_

 

_From Chris:_

_Good luck, Viktor!_

_Call me later if you need me_

_Or if you don’t and just want to chat about your beau’s SP…_

 

_To Chris:_

_Thanks! Do you know when he skates??_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_GOOD LUCK TO YOU TOO_

_WHNE DO YOU SK8?_

_I WANNA WATCH IT LIVE_

 

_From Yuuri:_

_About that…_

_{link}_

_{_ **_Japanese Nationals – Men’s Short Program Results_ ** _}_

_To Yuuri:_

_YUUUUUUUURI YOU DIDN’T TELL ME WHAT TIME YOU WERE SKATING!!!!_

_For everything going on in your life right now, you did pretty well._

_Watch your edge when you take off into the 4S_

_I know you’re leagues ahead of these other skaters_

_You can definitely get the gold_

 

_From Chris:_

_{link}_

_{_ **_Katsuki Yuuri SP JPN Nat’ls 2015_ ** _}_

 

_To Chris:_

_HE DIDN’T TELL ME WEN HE WAS SKATING_

_ITS ALMOST LIKE HE DIDNT WANT ME TO SEE_

_DOESNT HE LIKE ME??????_

_DID I ALREDY SCREW UP EVERTING_

_WHY DO I HAVE FELEINGS, CHRIS??????_

 

_From Chris:_

_Caps lock, Viktor*_

 

_To Chris:_

_ITS NOT AN ACCIDENT; I AM SHOUTING_

 

_From Chris:_

_You can use a semicolon, but not an apostrophe…_

_Viktor, do you need an English refresher course?_

_Shall we switch to French?_

_You know, your spelling is pretty bad right now, too…_

_English it is…_

 

_To Chris:_

_DONT DECIDE FOR ME!!!!_

 

_From Yuuri:_

_Ha probably not_

_But thanks for the vote of confidence_

_I heard that so long as I make top 5, they’re still going to send me to 4CC_

_I guess Watanabe-san is campaigning for me_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_THATS GOOD IS HE JSF_

_Woah sorry caps lock_

_Is he JSF?**_

 

_From Yuuri:_

_Yeah_

_He’s the guy who signs off that I didn’t really fail the drug test_

_Because I have prescriptions_

_I had to fax him a list of the changes in my meds from the meadows_

_*fax*_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_Sounds so complicated_

_And really invasive of your privacy_

 

_From Yuuri:_

_Tell that to the fuckheads who dope_

 

_To Yuuri:_

_If I knew any of them, I would._

_Yakov is really strict_

_We’re anomalies in Russian athletics_

_Okay I have to go_

_Skating in 30 min_

 

_From Yuuri:_

_I’ll be watching ᵔᴥᵔ_

 

**December 28, Afternoon – Nagano, Japan**

_To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_Holy shit I fucking pulled it off_

_{link}_

_{_ **_Japan’s Ace Comes Back for Gold After Lackluster Short Program_ ** _}_

 

_From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_YAAAAS QUEEN SLAY_

 

_To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_You never call me queen…_

_You are currently with Alex Garrison, aren’t you…_

 

_From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_HE SENDS YOU HIS LOVE AND STILL WANTS TO DATE YOU_

_Don’t worry_

_I told him you were taken now_

 

_To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_Fuck you_

 

_From Christophe (Switzerland):_

_I hope you let Viktor know when you were going to be skating this time_

_He practically died of dramatics the other day_

 

_To Christophe (Switzerland):_

_I did…_

_He doesn’t need to watch me if he doesn’t want to tho_

_I hope he knows that_

 

_From Christophe (Switzerland):_

_Viktor has never shown interest in anyone this way before_

_He wants to watch you_

_He properly came out to you_

_Let him have this_

_You are very much his type, after all ;)_

 

_From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_I will not engage in an extramarital affair with you_

_Fuck your husband._

 

_To Christophe (Switzerland):_

_…_

_…_

_What do you mean I’m his type????_

 

_From Christophe (Switzerland):_

_Dark hair, great ass, lowkey asshole_

_Able to hide your idolatry_

_You do gay rights stuff too, right?_

_I’m sure he’s smitten <3 _

_Take care of him, darling. I’m sure you know that he needs it…_

 

_To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_We made out like, twice oh my god_

_We’re barely dating_

_Are we dating?_

_He said he wanted to date me._

_But did that mean that now we are dating?_

_Fuck Phichit what do I do_

_I’m so fucking socially awkward like what the fuck_

_Should I ask him?? I don’t want to look like an idiot_

_I mean, I am an idiot, but still._

_I really like him. Like, more than I thought I would_

_A lot more._

_Like, I don’t think this is all just a decade of hero-worship reaching its boiling point_

_But I don’t want him to get in trouble. He’s still in the closet_

_And Russia_

_Oh no what if…_

_Fuck_

 

_From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont:_

_Give me his number_

 

 

**December 28, 2015, Late Night – Yekaterinburg, Russia**

_From Unknown:_

_This is Phichit Chulanont, and I am on best friend duty to make sure you are worthy of my dear Yuuri’s association_

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_You have my attention, Mr. Chulanont_

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_Let’s be clear—Yuuri was a fan of yours before he ever got serious about figure skating. In fact, he told me once that seeing you skate was what made the decision for him to go for figure skating instead of ballet, since he’d been doing them both equally for years. If you’re messing with him in any way, or taking advantage of him for some kind of sick game, I will end you._

_I._

_Will._

_End._

_You._

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_I’d rather not be murdered._

_But please do_

_End me if I hurt Yuuri, that is._

_Yuuri deserves the best. Better than me, that’s for sure._

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_But you like him_

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_Yes._

_I do._

_It’s complicated tho_

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_ugh he said the same thing and I don’t understand why_

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_Wait why did he say it was complicated?_

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_Because his anxiety tells him everything is complicated, even when it’s not_

_{screenshot}_

_Why do you say it’s complicated??_

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_I want to be able to be with him, but it would have to be in secret, and I don’t know how long he’d put up with that. I don’t want to scare him away, but I’m afraid that he’ll leave if we can’t ever be public about it._

_…_

_and I’m scared…_

_If people find out…_

_I don’t want anyone to hurt him._

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_You don’t want anyone to hurt him, but you’re okay if you get hurt?_

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_Did…_

_Did Yuuri tell you how we met?_

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_I’ve inferred._

 

_To Phichit (be afraid):_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Please don’t tell anyone_

 

_From Phichit (be afraid):_

_You should come stay with us. Yuuri has space in his room for a king-sized bed ;) ;)_

 

 

**December 29, 2015, Mid-Morning – Nagano, Japan**

_From Viktor:_

_I can’t wait to see your exhibition!_

 

_To Viktor:_

  _I asked Ciao-Ciao if I could change it and he said no lol_

_I just want to get it over with so that I can go home_

_We fly at like five in the morning tomorrow_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Change it to what??_

 

_To Viktor:_

_Have you ever heard “[Lithium](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJGpsL_XYQI)” by Evanescence? _

_I was mostly joking when I suggested it_

_Mostly…_

_The more I think about it, the more I want to do it._

_But I definitely couldn’t pull it off for tonight_

 

_From Viktor:_

_I just listened to that song…wow…_

_I kind of want to skate to it now, too_

_I won’t steal it from you, though_

_I’d rather see you skate it_

_I hope you do_

_Even if it’s just for practice_

_Send me a recording!_

_Put it on YouTube!_

 

_To Viktor:_

_Nonononono_

_No YouTube_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Why not??_

_We should start a YouTube channel together!_

_We can post videos of skating to songs that we’d never normally skate to_

 

_To Viktor:_

_But why internet_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Because it’s fun_

_I have no friends except the internet_

_And Chris and Makka_

_As Georgi reminded me the other day_

 

_To Viktor:_

_That is unfortunate_

_I have Phichit and three hamsters._

_They’re not even my hamsters_

_We’re friends, though_

_Sort of?_

_Right?_

_Or more?_

_Hopefully not less…_

_I wouldn’t blame you if you choose less…_

_I am difficult_

_Sorry. You don’t have to answer that_

_I am being weird_

 

_From Viktor:_

_MORE_

_I CHOOSE MORE MORE MORE_

_MORE_

_please_

_…_

_…_

_I mean, if you want…_

_I stand by what I said the other night_

_I want to date you_

_I just wish I could romance you properly. Candlelit dinners, mud wrestling and body shots._

_You know, the works_

_I can’t, though._

_A public relationship would violate like three of my sponsor contracts_

 

_To Viktor:_

_Why would you sign a contract like that?_

_Sorry_

_Rude_

_You don’t have to answer_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Because I honestly thought that I’d never meet anyone_

_And I also kind of thought_

_Once I was satisfied with my skating career, I’d just…_

_[end it](https://www.outsports.com/2017/6/20/15835374/ryan-ocallaghan-gay-nfl-new-england-patriots-kansas-city-chiefs)… _

_But then I met you…_

 

_To Viktor:_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_You’re also a better option than suicide._

_I am so glad you were up there that night_

_…_

_Viktor…can you tell me anything about myself that you knew before you met me?_

 

_From Viktor:_

_…_

_Is this a trick question, Katsuki Yuuri?_

 

_To Viktor:_

_No_

_But can you?_

 

_From Viktor:_

_Your step sequences are the best in the world and you’re consistently underscored in international competition._

 

_To Viktor:_

_Thanks_

_not true but thanks_

_But anything about my personal life?_

 

_From Viktor:_

_no…_

 

_To Viktor:_

_I am good at keeping what should be private, private_

_If we have to date in secret for now, we date in secret_

_I don’t want you to get in any kind of trouble_

_When you’re ready, you can come out_

_I will be there when you do._

_BUT_

_I am not a substitute for therapy!_

_I am Really Fucked Up™_

_I’ll do my best, but we both need professional help_

 

_From Viktor:_

_I know_

_I don’t know where to go_

_I’ll try to talk to Yakov again_

 

_To Viktor:_

_If all else fails, you can always come to Detroit_


	5. Chapter 5

**December 31, 2015, Mid-Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Does Japanese Skater Katsuki Yuuri Dope? Photos Reveal…** }

_ In what has arguably been Katsuki Yuuri’s best season to date, the Japanese skater has demonstrated a severe lack of consistency in performance that has left many fans wondering what is going on. A new photo (below, left) taken by an anonymous source reveals Katsuki (right) entering a rehab facility in Ontario, Canada, immediately following the Grand Prix Final, accompanied by his coach, Celestino Cialdini (left). A second photo (below, right) reveals Cialdini (left) and his wife (right) escorting Katsuki (center) away from the facility two days before the Japanese Nationals. _

_ If Katsuki is doping, that could explain his erratic performance at the GPF and his uncharacteristically high score for his free skate at Japanese Nationals. Japanese bronze medalist Ichinose Ryusuke weighs in that he witnessed Katsuki experience fits of tremors twice during closed practice sessions prior to the short program competition. Silver medalist Minami Kenjirou, however, claims that it is nearly impossible to fake the drug test required of all competitors certified by the Japan Skate Federation. _

_ Katsuki has not been reached for comment at this time. _

 

 

Yuuri’s phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at the Japanese number before silencing the call. It had rung constantly ever since that tabloid article went live online. So far, he’d only answered calls from his family and Viktor and ignored all the rest. If he didn’t recognize the number, he silenced the call. If it was one of his sponsors, he let it ring out and go to voicemail.

When the same number called a third time within two minutes, Yuuri caved and answered the phone, “ _ Moshi-moshi? Katsuki Yuuri desu. _ ”

“Katsuki-kun, this is Watanabe Kyousuke from the JSF. Is now a good time?”

“Watanabe-san!  _ Hai. _ Um. Forgive me. I’m being harassed by reporters, so I haven’t been answering my phone.”

“About that. Katsuki-kun, you have in no way violated the JSF code of conduct. You know that and I know that, and I have shown your documentation to my colleagues. Given the nature of your illness, I wanted to reach out to you personally to assure you that the JSF will publically back you. We are already drafting a statement; however, we need your permission to go forward with it.”

Yuuri’s throat constricted. “Y-you want to tell them what meds I take.”

“No, no. We just want permission to state that you have a documented illness and that you have been complying with us and with the ISU. I can guarantee that the statement doesn’t even include what you’re being treated for. Katsuki-kun? Please, take a deep breath. And let it out. Good.”

“Th-thank you, Watanabe-san. Yes, please make the statement.  _ Anno _ , may I ask—you are always so patient with me, when so few are…”

“Katsuki-kun, you are my daughter’s favorite skater. She would be crushed if she found out her papa was mean to her precious Yuuri-kun.”

“Oh. Um.  _ Arigato gozaimasu _ . Please send my greetings to your daughter.”

“Very well. Take care of yourself, Katsuki-kun. The JSF is on your side.”

“Thank you.”

“Goodbye, now.

“ _ Hai. Ja ne _ .”

Yuuri held the phone to his chest and counted with his breathing. The JSF would make the statement. He didn’t have to do anything, confront anyone. The thought of going public with his mental health made his body seize with fear.  _ One two three four five six seven _ . Would people be relieved to know he wasn’t doping or on drugs? Would they be upset about the vague ‘illness’ that Watanabe-san would announce? If the truth got out—would they turn on him? Hate him? Would they be disgusted?  _ One two three four five six seven _ . Yuuri already knew; he was unstable and  _ unfit _ and unwelcome in the world.

He didn’t notice when Phichit entered the apartment. He didn’t register his roommate gently prying the phone from his clenched fist. Didn’t feel the first few circles rubbed into his back. He didn’t feel when he started crying, when Phichit pulled him into a hug and held him through the shakes and tears.

When it was over, he sniffed and rubbed the saltwater trails off of his cheeks and chin. “I hate my life, Phichit,” he said. The words didn’t express what he meant, but they came close enough. Yuuri didn’t hate his life, but the circumstances of it. He hated the meds, hated the help, hated that he needed them in order to function. He hated that half of his energy went toward maintaining a state recognized as close enough to normal to pass. He hated it all, and he was tired of pretending to be well when he knew that he wasn’t.

“I hate what the universe throws at you,” Phichit said. “You’re one of the kindest, most considerate people I know, Yuuri, but you put up with so much internal shit. And then on top of that, this bullshit stuff happens to you when you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve this at all.” Yuuri’s phone began to buzz again. Viktor. Phichit picked it up, but didn’t answer. “Do you want to talk to lover-boy?”

“I want to die.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m being serious.”

The phone went to voicemail. Phichit handed it to Yuuri. “Answer it when he calls again. Now talk to me. Do you really want to die?”

Yuuri thought about Phichit’s question, what was the right answer, what was the truth? “I don’t know, Phi. I don’t have any plans, and I’m not making plans. I want—I want this to have never happened. I don’t know if I want to die or not, but I don’t want to exist right now.”

The phone began to ring again. Viktor was calling back. Phichit smiled. “I don’t know about you,” he said, “but if it were me and the sports world’s hottest living legend had me on speed dial, I’d never want to stop existing for anything.”

“Relationships don’t cure mental illness, Phichit,” Yuuri said. He answered the call. “ _ Moshi-moshi _ ? Viktor?”

 

 

**January 1, 2016, Early Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor stood in the doorway to the weight room, watching his rink mates. Just before he’d gotten there, his phone had pinged with a news alert from  _ International Figure Magazine _ —the article was a reprint of the ridiculous tabloid piece he’d seen yesterday accusing Yuuri of doping. He felt dizzy, nauseated from the growing lie.  _ International Figure Magazine _ wasn’t the best source of news, but it was generally regarded as reputable. If they were rehashing a muckraking pile of lies, then people were going to believe them. Viktor leaned on the door frame, unable to confront his rink mates when his more-than-friends/secret boyfriend was being dragged through the mud.

His ears were ringing, but he could still hear the conversation happening. His rink mates were also talking about Yuuri. Viktor took a deep breath and willed himself to listen. This would be a good gauge of what needed to be done for damage control. Anything he could do to help Yuuri…

“This is a load of shit. A huge fucking load of shit.” Yuri Plisetsky threw his phone across the weight room, narrowly missing Georgi’s head.

Georgi ducked out of the line of fire and placed the weights in his hands on the floor. He reached to pick up Yuri’s phone. “Watch your language, Yura.”

“Piss off, Georgi. Do you even fucking know Yuuri Katsuki? This is fucking bullshit. Total fucking bullshit.”

Mila, doing incline crunches nearby, called out, “Georgi lost to him at Skate Canada, don’t you remember?”

“Thanks for reminding me, Mila,” Georgi rolled his eyes. “I know Katsuki about as well as anyone else does. He’s standoffish at best with the way he almost always ignores the other competitors. You’d think with an attitude like that, he’d be a better skater.”

Mila got up from her bench and drew closer to the two men. She said, “And I mean, the article does have a point. He  _ was _ acting kind of weird at the Final. And he skipped the banquet. I mean, I don’t think he seems like the type to do drugs, but there are photos of him coming out of rehab. That’s got to mean something.”

“Bullshit,” Yuri said. “Viktor skipped the banquet, too, and that idiot’s not doing drugs.”

A cough by the door caught the small group’s attention. Viktor was standing in the entryway, his frustration and anger clear on his face. He tried to contain them, but his usual press-ready grin was nowhere to be found at the moment. All three of his rink mates stared at Viktor openly—none of them had ever seen Viktor upset, or at least they’d never seen him display it.

Yuri shook himself out of it first. “Viktor and I had breakfast with him after the final. Tell them it’s all bullshit, Viktor.”

“I…” Viktor looked from Yuri to Georgi to Mila. “I…”

“Don’t tell me you believe this,” Yuri shouted. Viktor could see tears of frustration forming in the teenager’s eyes.

“Of course I don’t,” Viktor snapped back. He wanted to scream about Yuuri, his integrity and strength and support, his sarcasm and wit and airy laughter. He wanted to demand the truth, and the respect due to Yuuri for persisting in the face of his struggle. He wanted to print a thousand articles about the curve of Yuuri’s smile. Instead, he took a deep, rattling breath and said, “Yuuri has way too much going on in his life to even think about doing something as ridiculous as doping. He’s—hold on.” Viktor pulled his ringing phone from his jacket pocket. It was a FaceTime call from Yuuri. “He’s calling me.”

Viktor answered the phone and the video feed picked up on Yuuri, hyperventilating, slumped into a gray corner. “Vi-viktor?” he choked out. “I can’t—I need help.”

“Woah, hey. Where are you?”

Yuuri took a shaky breath. “The rink. I was…some people—I think they were paparazzi? They chased me—I was leaving…I was supposed to lock up. Ciao-Ciao didn’t answer. Phichit didn’t answer. They’re—they’re still out there. I don’t know what to do.  _ I don’t know what to do _ . I’m—I’m really scared, and I—I can’t breathe and I—I—it’s getting bad again…”

“Okay, Yuuri. I looked up some stuff to help, do you do deep breathing? Yeah? Great, because that’s all I know. Breathe for me while I get somewhere more private, okay?” Viktor left the weight room without another glance to his rink mates. He walked back toward the locker room, and once in the privacy of the empty space, he sat on a bench. “Have you tried calling the police?”

Yuuri shivered, but his breathing was almost under control. “N-no, I don’t want to call the police. I know this is a nicer part of Detroit, but I don’t really trust American police. I mean, I’m not white.”

Viktor thought of some news articles he’d seen lately about the American police; he wouldn’t feel confident calling them either. “Good point. You said your coach isn’t answering. Did you try the rink manager?”

Yuuri shook his head. “I don’t have her cell phone. The number I do have goes straight to her office here. I can get out of the building from the back, but I can’t get home without going back around to the front. I don’t know what to do.”

“What time is it there?”

“I dunno, late? Oh. It’s after midnight. Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to be here this late.”

“Why are you at the rink at midnight?”

“Anxiety? I, um…I had a fit of tremors during my regular practice, which led into a pretty bad panic attack, and after that, I was kind of exhausted and fell asleep in the locker room. Ciao-Ciao woke me up and told me to go home, but I realized that I slept through practice, so I asked if I could stay a couple extra hours and work through things. Don’t make that face, of course I wouldn’t do jumps without anyone around. I may be a self-destructive, suicidal idiot, but I’m not  _ that _ stupid. Anyway, I promised him that I’d leave by nine, but then everything was really overwhelming, so I started skating school figures to calm down, and suddenly it was…way after nine…So anxiety. Yeah. I’m here because anxiety.”

“Suicidal? Yuuri…”

“Like you’re not.”

“Touché. We promised each other not to die, remember?”

“I already had this talk with Phichit yesterday. I don’t have plans and I’m not making plans. Just lots of ideation.”

“That means when you think about it without necessarily feeling like you need to do it, right?”

“Yeah, it’s the thoughts, not the actions. I’m not going to take any actions.”

“If it’s just the thoughts, I have those too…”

“What a fucking pair we make, oh my god. You better not kill yourself before we’ve even had sex, because I will never forgive you.”

Viktor laughed, confident that he was alone. “If sex with you is an option for the future, I think I can convince myself to survive.”

“Relationships don’t cure mental illness, Viktor. God. I said the same fucking thing to Phichit yesterday.”

“You’re the one who just said that my suicide, or lack thereof, was entirely dependent on our sex life.”

“Touché. Okay. I’m calmed down now. I still don’t know how I’m getting home, but I don’t feel like I’m going to explode, so that’s good. Shit. Oh shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry—Viktor, where are you?”

“Locker room. Don’t worry, it’s empty.”

“Fuck. I am so sorry. I made jokes about us, and I know you have to hide it, but we’re on FaceTime, and fuck fuck fuck.”

Viktor hummed at the memory of his lips on Yuuri’s, and Yuuri’s tongue in his mouth. Even when Yuuri was walking the line of a panic attack on the other end of a video call, his presence made Viktor feel safe. He knew that he was playing dangerously, but with Yuuri, he didn’t need to hide. Viktor didn’t want to sacrifice that to his fear, and so as long as he believed no one would overhear him, he indulged. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me. It’s okay, I’m alone. I can be as gay as I want when I’m alone. The only other people around so far are Georgi, Plisetsky and Babicheva, and they were all in the weight room. I wasn’t about to talk you through that with all of them listening in, so I came here.”

“Still, I really fucked up and I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll just call on the phone, just in case, so that no one overhears me. I told you I could keep things private.”

“And you can. The whole reason this tabloid thing is happening is because some creep literally sat around for days to get pictures of you and nobody knows the truth enough to refute the suggestion because you’ve been so good at keeping things private.”

Yuuri looked away from his camera, teeth digging into his lower lip. After a moment of gnawing at the skin of his lip and making Viktor weak with his desire to kiss him, Yuuri said, “The JSF is making an official statement.”

Viktor nodded. “What are they going to say?”

“That I’m sick and that they’d like the press and the fans to respect that while I undergo treatment.”

“Okay, so the truth.”

“It feels misleading. Like, next they’re going to think that I have cancer or something. I don’t. I’m just fucked up in my mind.”

“Yuuri, you have mental illnesses and you are undergoing treatment for them instead of pretending like you’re fine and acting like a perfect plastic doll like I do. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s really amazing. It’s—I wish I could get to that point.”

“It’s not  _ that _ amazing. I have a support system that’s been known to force it on me. What’s amazing—and absolutely horrifying—is how nobody’s paid enough attention to  _ you _ to notice how bad your depression is. It’s…when I think about it, I get so angry. Like, I don’t understand why you don’t have someone in your life who sees you and wants you to get help.”

Viktor sighed and turned so he could lay down on the bench. He held his phone in the air so he could still see Yuuri clearly. “I have you now. And I told Chris some of it. I keep trying to talk to Yakov, but every time I get him alone and away from the ice for a second, he’s inundated with calls or other skaters showing up out of nowhere. Besides you and Chris and Yakov, I don’t really know who else I’d talk to…so maybe that’s your answer. It’s not that no one in my life wants me to get help; it’s that there’s no one in my life.”

“There’s got to be someone around you who’d be a good person for you to go to if you need it.”

“But I have you!”

“Yes, definitely. I have you, now, too. And I also have Phichit and Celestino and the GSA and a psychiatrist and a psychologist and Ketty…well, I used to have Ketty... _ Yatta! _ ” Yuuri sat up straighter, a bright smile growing on this face. “Viktor, do you think Ketty would give me a ride if I called her? She’s always awake until like three in the morning.”

“I don’t know; who’s Ketty?”

“She’s a friend from the music conservatory. We kind of had a falling out. It was totally my fault. But Ketty would still come, right?”

“Probably, especially if she knows you’re trapped in the rink with the bloodthirsty vultures at the door.”

“Okay. I’ll call her. I mean, actually…maybe I shouldn’t.” The smile fell away, replaced by a furrowed brow and matching frown. Viktor had to turn up the volume on his phone when Yuuri began muttering, “It’s a bad idea. Ketty probably hates me, anyway. I can’t call her. She probably wouldn’t even pick up. It’s after midnight, and we haven’t really talked in months…no, I can’t call Ketty. She’d just end up hating me more.”

“Yuuri…”

“Viktor?” Yuuri refocused his attention on his phone.

“Call Ketty. Then call me back and let me know what’s going to happen. It will be okay either way, but Ketty might not be as mad at you as you think, and if she’d be able to help you out of this situation, then bad blood or not, I’m sure she’d help. The worst that can happen is she says no, right?”

“The worst that can happen is she tells me to fuck off and then tells the fucking paparazzi that are now chasing me around about how shitty I am as a friend, and the tabloids spin it along with this stupid doping story. I would never dope; you know that, right?”

“The other day you sent me a text that said ‘tell that to the fuckheads that dope,’ so yeah, I am pretty certain. I doubt that your friend is going to tell you to fuck off, though. Even if you’ve lost touch recently, I’m sure she’ll come get you. Now go call her.”

Yuuri hesitated, looking like he wanted to fight, but after a few moments, he sighed. “It can’t be worse than sleeping in the rink and getting hypothermia again. Okay, I will call Ketty and then call you back.  _ Anno _ , Viktor?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I love seeing your face, even if the circumstances causing it aren’t pleasant.”

Half a world away, Yuuri blushed. “I like seeing you, too. So much better than posters, you know?”

“Yuuri! You have posters of me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was planning on sticking to a Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday schedule, but I am too hype to see what you guys think about this. So, have a Wednesday plot twist on me!


	6. Chapter 6

**January 1, 2016, Very Very Early Morning – Detroit, USA**

 

Ketty pressed the gas and pulled out of the back parking lot of the Detroit Skate Club. “You know that it’s New Year’s, right? You could come with me back to Lev’s party. People keep asking me what happened to you, and I’m like, ‘I don’t know how to answer that’.”

Yuuri pressed his cheek to the window, the cool glass calming the heat of his skin. “Too much noise. And no, I totally forgot that it was New Years. It’s probably why Ciao-Ciao and Phichit didn’t answer their phones.”

“I hope Phichit’s not doing something too illegal.”

“Probably just shots with Alex Garrison, who’s not a total idiot, so he’s probably fine,” Yuuri said. “Um, Ket—where are we going?”

Ketty kept her eyes on the road as she ignored the turn toward Yuuri’s apartment and headed in the direction of the highway. “Diner 95. I need gravy fries. You need gravy fries. We need gravy fries.”

He smiled. “They do have good poutine…”

“ _Gravy. Fries.”_

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what it’s called. You’re literally from Canada.”

She scoffed at him. “Yuuri, you are the one who called them gravy fries the first time you tried them freshman year. I will stand behind that moniker until the day I die.” She accelerated and merged onto the highway. “So, are you going to tell me why you were at the rink at 12:30 in the morning on New Year’s instead of at Lev’s party or with Phichit and Alex Garrison?”

Yuuri could feel her eyes on him in the rearview mirror. “I lost track of time?”

“Psh. Might work on your coach, but not on me, mister. I don’t care that you haven’t talked to me at all this past semester—for reasons I still don’t understand, but that’s not the point right now—but don’t forget that I know you, Katsuki Yuuri.”

“It’s not a lie. I did lose track of time. And then there were all these paparazzi people when I was going to leave, so I locked myself in the rink and when I calmed down, I called you.”

Ketty slowed down onto the exit ramp. “Okay, so…maybe obvious question? Why are paparazzi stalking you instead of drinking champagne and kissing loved ones and singing _Auld Lang Syne?_ ” Within moments, she was pulling into the parking lot of Diner 95.

“It’s kind of a long story…” Yuuri chanced a look at his driver. He couldn’t read her face in the darkness, but he didn’t think she knew about the tabloids yet.

“Alright fine. First gravy fries. Then story time. Come on, Yuu-kun, let’s go.” She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her, then walked toward the orange glow of the diner. Yuuri followed after her.

They sat across from each other in a booth, the diner around them nearly vacant. When the extra-large order of poutine arrived with two forks, Ketty stabbed into the cheese curds and gravy. “Alright, Katsuki,” she said. “Time to spill.”

Yuuri sighed and pulled a single fry from the plate with his fingers. “So I went on Ativan for a while, right? It’s the first time I’ve taken a benzo for more than like a month at a time or for emergencies. And I kind of was supposed to be taking it while I was in Sochi, but it fell out of my bag while I was packing, so my body kind of freaked out, and I ended up needing to be in the hospital for a while. But they didn’t have any beds in the hospital, so my doctor sent me to a rehab place, because she said they were best equipped to deal with me, and someone took photos of me coming out of there and now there’s a bunch of people on the internet who think I use performance enhancing drugs.”

Ketty chewed a mouthful of potato and cheese. She swallowed. “That’s really fucked up. Consider me your personal rescue service until the spring semester starts. You know, if you did take steroids, you might be able to grow a beard.”

“More like unwanted breasts. I’m not an idiot; that kind of shit is so terrible for you.”

“Okay, so everything is crazy right now. What about us? What gives, Yuuri? You ghost me out and then come running when you’re in a bind. I don’t get it, so we’re going to sit here and eat gravy fries until you tell me what’s going on in that labyrinthine mind of yours.”

Yuuri sighed and shifted in his seat. There was no way he was escaping this conversation, and his usual route of deflection and misdirection never worked with Ketty. He couldn’t fool her. He needed to be honest. “I…sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you out. I was just…I felt so guilty about the composition that you did for me—I thought you’d be mad that Celestino didn’t want me to use it, and I—I don’t know, I was afraid you hated me for making you do all that work and then not using it.”

“Oh my god, Yuuri. If I had to pick between you and—I don’t care about the damn composition. Next time, instead of avoiding me because I _might_ be angry, actually _ask_ me if I’m angry. We haven’t talked in seven months. That’s so many months. Like, I have no idea who you’re hooking up with, and that is not okay. Last time we talked, you were still in that terrible relationship with that dude from the lacrosse team.”

Yuuri flinched. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“So you’re not still with him? Thank god, because that guy was a prick who treated you like shit, and you deserve so much better.”

“I had to stop drinking when I started taking Ativan,” Yuuri said. “I mean, I’m not really supposed to drink no matter what the med is, but the first time I got drunk after I started taking it was the last, because I got so fucked up. And I guess you could say that Sober Yuuri isn’t as sexually adventurous as Drunk Yuuri…and without that…I stopped seeing him, yeah.”

“I like Sober Yuuri more, to be honest,” Ketty said.

“Me, too,” Yuuri admitted. “I like how I have an easier time talking with people when I drink, but I don’t like the crazy stuff that I know that I do. And Drunk Yuuri is just zero to a hundred.”

Ketty hummed in agreement before stabbing into the plate of poutine again. “So I heard you made it to the Grand Prix Final this year…”

“Yeah…” Yuuri picked up his fork and began eating less gently. “It would’ve been cool if I didn’t leave my meds at home. And if I hadn’t been stress eating all through the end of the semester and leading up to it. And if my dog hadn’t died.”

“Everything is always fucked up for you, isn’t it? You really deserve to catch a break. Did you at least finally meet that sexy Russian you idolize so much?”

“Oh shit, I forgot to call Viktor back.” Yuuri pulled his phone from his pocket.

 

_To Viktor:_

_Still with Ketty. went to get poutine._

_I forgot it was new years what is my life_

_I guess happy new years?_

_I have an appt this afternoon and I am gonna get yelled at for not sleeping tonite_

_I am so fucked._

 

When he looked up, Ketty was staring at him with a wicked grin on her face. “Okay, what happened between you and the sexy Russian? Because just texting him, you look like someone handed you the sun and the moon and a pond covered in orange lotuses.”

Yuuri smiled and blushed. “It’s a secret,” he said, and then—he couldn’t stop himself—he winked. Just like he’d seen Viktor do in countless interviews. He winked at Ketty and flipped his hair, and he couldn’t tell if he was being serious about it or if he was mocking the flamboyant gesture.

Yuuri’s phone buzzed.

 

_From Viktor:_

_Aah thnaks for ltting me kno_

_I was worired_

_and happy new year! I wuldv called @midnite here but yakov trheatened to end my contract uf I dindt show up for practice tody so i ws asleep_

_wow I cannot type and wy isnt autocorrect a thing?_

_gogod luck with yr friend :)_

_I hope u patch thngs up ok :) :)_

 

“Is he being smooth as fuck right now?” Ketty asked, straining across the table to try and see Yuuri’s screen.

Yuuri laughed and passed the phone to Ketty. “Even better. He’s being a total dork.”

 

 

 

**January 2, 2016, Mid-Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

 

{link}

{ **JSF Official Statement Regarding Katsuki Doping Allegations** }

_Watanabe Kyousuke: The Japan Skate Federation is shocked and appalled at the way skater Katsuki Yuuri-san is being maligned by the press. Katsuki-san has a chronic illness that requires medical care, and he has always been very diligent in documenting his medication changes with the JSF and the ISU in order to comply with the official guidelines. The JSF asks that the press and fans alike please respect Katuski-san’s wishes to keep his condition private and to stop spreading false allegations against him._

  

Yakov had all of his skaters assembled in the break room. “I know this may seem tedious to some of you who’ve been around longer than others, but we’re still going to have this talk. None of you, under any circumstances, are to even think the words _performance enhancing drugs_ . Russia does not need another doping scandal, and this one happening right now to Japan is a perfect example of what not to do. No drugs, no steroids, no nothing. I barely support the idea of over-the-counter painkillers for your bruises. If I so much as _dream_ that one of you is doping, I will get you tested. And if one of those tests comes back with so much as a _blip_ beyond the norm, your contract will be voided indefinitely. Are we all clear? Good. Any questions?”

Viktor fought the prickle of annoyance running down his spine. Yakov’s MO had always been to use scandals as teaching tools, but he hadn’t felt a personal connection to whatever teachable moment was being used since his rink mate Tonya had gotten pregnant at fifteen. He wanted to defend Yuuri—

The little Yuri cleared his throat. “I just want to point out,” he said, “that Katsuki doesn’t dope. He has a documented illness, and if you’d been paying attention, you’d know that the JSF already released a statement about it.”

Yakov sighed. “I don’t care what the truth is; it’s a scandal regardless. Maybe if Katsuki were a little more public, then his fans wouldn’t be so willing to believe the worst about him. This is another lesson. When you are in the public eye, even a little, it’s important to craft your image tightly and do nothing to destroy that. When you destroy your image, your fans lose faith in you, and you lose support. And I don’t just mean emotional support from your fans. I mean your sponsors will suddenly become your competitor’s sponsors. Katsuki is going to have a hard time getting past this scandal because he hasn’t built up his public image enough to sustain the damage a false allegation can bring. Viktor, on the other hand, has an incredibly powerful public image and name, and he could probably weather two or three major scandals without significant impact to his career. Not that you have the permission or leeway to do so, Vitya.”

Viktor fought to keep from rolling his eyes. “Of course not, Yakov. Never.”

“Good. Everyone, follow Vitya’s example. Work with your publicists and marketing teams and sponsors to create a personal brand and public image that brings pride to Russia and to figure skating. I want to see Plisetsky, Babicheva and Irinskaya/Vasiliev on the ice in twenty minutes. Everyone else—if it’s not cardio, it’s choreography. I don’t care which you do. Just be ready when I call you to the ice.”

The crowd of skaters began to exit the room, but Viktor hung back and pulled his phone from his pocket.

 

_To Chris:_

_You don’t believe the crap they’re saying about Yuuri, right?_

_I’ve never been so angry on behalf of someone else before._

He locked his phone, then opened it again.

 

_To Yuuri:_

_How are you doing today?_

_I saw the JSF statement_

_I fixed autocorrect too_

_I didn’t know you could turn it off, which apparently I did…_

_Seems dangerous…_

_I also just realized it’s almost four in the morning for you_

_Sorry!_

_Just wanted to check on you_

 

He looked up from his phone, locked it and stuffed it back into his pocket. Georgi was still in the room, but the rest of the skaters had already disappeared. Viktor looked away from Georgi, still annoyed at his comments the day before about Yuuri. The other skater seemed like he was about to say something, but Viktor was spared from conversation by the buzzing of his phone.

 

_From Chris:_

_Anyone who’s ever managed to pull a conversation longer than five minutes out of Yuuri knows that it’s completely false._

_The only drugs that boy does are alcohol and bad decisions_

_Which are completely legal AND allowed by the ISU_

_How are you doing with all this?_

_I’d be even more furious if I were you._

 

Viktor relaxed. If Chris believed in Yuuri and Viktor believed in Yuuri, they could also make statements in support, alongside the official one from the JSF. He knew it was only a matter of time before some reporter asked him to weigh in on the rumors. He didn’t know what to say beyond what the JSF had put out, but he knew that he was prepared to throw the full weight of his public persona behind Yuuri.

 

_To Chris:_

_I haven’t been this angry in a decade_

 

Georgi coughed. “Viktor,” he said, “how’s Katsuki taking it?”

“You don’t really care, do you? You’re just making conversation,” Viktor quipped. “After all, you _hardly know him_ , and he’s _standoffish at best_ , right?”

Georgi’s eyes popped, but he shook his head. “Yeah, well, I guess I would be, too, if I were trying to hide a chronic illness. I’m sorry I said that. I know you two have gotten close since the Final.”

Viktor froze, heart suddenly hammering in his neck, breath suddenly locked in his windpipe. _Georgi knew._ He felt dizzy, but he couldn’t move to sit or brace himself along the wall. He couldn’t even move to sway with his dizziness. How did Georgi know? Yes, Yuuri had called him while they were all in the weight room, but...maybe that was all he knew? That Yuuri had called him while he was panicking? Viktor tried to breathe, but he couldn’t swallow the air down his throat. When his phone buzzed again in his hand, he dropped it, and the noise as the case hit the ground startled him enough to get the oxygen flowing to his brain again. He bent on shaking knees to pick up the phone from the floor. With the device secure in his pocket, he pushed past Georgi out of the break room without making eye contact. “Excuse me,” he muttered as he passed.

Once past Georgi, he felt disoriented in his own home rink. Viktor had been training here since he’d first been offered a scholarship to Yakov’s summer camp as a novice. Yakov had picked him out of a class of fifteen boys to work with year-round and turn into a champion. Seventeen years, he’d been a regular at the rink. By the time he was fifteen, he knew the rink better than his own house. But now, he could barely remember that he needed to turn right down the hallway in order to get to the back of the building. His feet moved on autopilot and the whole world blurred and distorted around him. He heard Yakov’s voice saying _he could probably weather two or three major scandals_ , but his career aside, Viktor doubted he could handle it if the scandals were what he assumed they would be. When all of Russia found out their Darling Legend was a depressed _abomination_ , would his life even be worth living anymore? Was it even worth living now?

Before he knew it, he found himself in the back of the building near an emergency exit. The alarm system didn’t work at this door, and he knew that some of the rink staff used it as a convenient escape to smoke during their shifts. Viktor pushed through the door and collapsed against the side of the building. He let the sharp, cold air stab his exposed skin as he placed his head between his knees and tried to regain control of his thoughts and actions. He thought through what he’d done and said with Yuuri that had worked. What was the worst that could happen?

The worst that could happen was that he could be arrested.

No, he hadn’t been public about anything, hadn’t confirmed anything about his sexual preferences with anyone outside of Chris and Yuuri. He hadn’t talked about it with any minors. If Georgi said something to the press, then maybe they would try to spin that…but as of right now, Viktor didn’t think he could be arrested.

_It’s not illegal to_ be _gay in Russia; it’s just illegal to talk about it_.

The worst that could happen was that Yakov would terminate his contract and that he’d lose all of his sponsorships and income and never be able to work in figure skating again.

But even still, someone in the world would want him as a choreographer or coach, right? He was a four-time World Champion, and a five-time GPF gold medalist; no one had ever won more than three consecutive GPF golds before, and none of them had managed identical gold streaks at Worlds. He may hate the fact that he’d sold himself to the persona, but the Living Legend part of it was true. He was the most decorated winter sports athlete of all time, and if he kept going for another couple of seasons—hit one last Olympics—he might catch up to that American swimmer. Even if he dropped out of the season now and never returned to competition, he’d be able to keep working.

And besides, it’s not like he hadn’t invested wisely with all of his business training that he’d received as a child from his father. He wasn’t hurting for money at all, which was not something most figure skaters had ever been able to say before he’d swept into the sport and turned it into an international favorite instead of just another aspect of the Winter Olympics that people tune into once every four years and then forget about by March. Figure skating was just as internationally popular as tennis and swimming, which was something that _he_ had managed to do, nearly single-handedly, with his skill and dedication to excellence. And also his jawline. His net worth was probably around fifteen million in American dollars, and so long as he stayed within his current budget, he could maintain that through investments and interest. He could cut back and grow it, too. He didn’t really need another marble bust, did he?

The worst that could happen—now that he was thinking about it—was that the story of his parents could come to light in the media. He understood, keenly, why Yuuri didn’t want the media to know the details of his mental illness. If what his mother had done to him got out, he wouldn’t be able to take it. Sure, he knew most people would be sympathetic, but there would be those who would make the connection to his sexuality and would feel the same way. Viktor didn’t deserve to be on this planet; it was really an accident that he was still alive. He should probably just—

The door he’d just come through opened. Georgi walked through, saw Viktor huddled on the ground, and sat down next to him. He pulled a package of licorice from his jacket pocket. “Want one?” he asked.

Viktor looked at the licorice, then at Georgi. “No, thanks,” he said.

“You know,” Georgi said as he removed a string of the candy from the box, “when I was a kid, my mom got a job in a Hollywood movie. It was a silly college rom-com shot on location at Stanford, and she played the main girl’s Russian Orthodox mother, even though she was only thirty-two at the time. She didn’t know what else to do with me, so for the three months she had to be on set, we lived together in a studio apartment in Palo Alto.”

“Your mother’s an actress?”

“She is. You might know her, actually. Her stage name is Anastasia Lipnitskaya.”

Viktor couldn’t help the gasp. “Are you serious? How did I not know this before? Makkachin and I watch _Bednaya Katyushka_ religiously.”

Georgi chuckled. “I’ll tell her you’re a fan. Maybe you can trade autographs.”

Viktor grabbed Georgi’s sleeve with one hand and placed another over his heart. “I might be dead, Georgi. I honestly think I’ve died. Do you think you could get my ashes on the set?”

“Slow down. Listen…I didn’t know what to say before…Viktor, are you okay?”

Viktor froze again, not as badly as before. He created space between himself and Georgi. “I’m perfectly fine. What do you mean?”

Georgi sighed and leaned against the wall of the building. “So when we lived in Palo Alto, I had a friend who had two moms. They were the coolest ladies I’d ever met, and I started staying with them during the day so that my mom wouldn’t have to worry about me while she was working. I was young, but not that young, nine or ten, I think? One day my friend’s grandmother calls, and his mom Joanne answers the phone. She gets this really fake grin on her face talking to her mother-in-law, and the whole thing gets really tense since her partner isn’t there. When I asked my friend about it later, he said that his grandma Elsie was a homophobe and that he hated her for hating his moms, but that his moms always tried so hard to make the relationship work with her and he didn’t understand why. I still don’t understand why, Viktor. Why did they suffer so much abuse from that woman who was never going to love or accept them? But I think if suffering through it and hiding your feelings is how you know to survive, then it might be really hard to believe that you don’t deserve to live in that kind of pain.”

Viktor turned wide eyes on Georgi. “And your mom let them take care of you, even though they were…you know…”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t she? There’s nothing wrong with loving someone; I think it can only make us stronger people. So, just so you know, you don’t have to lie to me if you don’t want to. Viktor, are you okay?”

“I—I’m not.”

“How about your boyfriend? If he’s got an illness, this has got to be making it worse.”

Viktor looked over his shoulder toward the door, then glanced around the parking lot in front of them. “I—he—we—I’m worried about him. And I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I want to defend him as loudly and as obnoxiously as I can, but if I do that, people will—they’ll find out about us. I’m…I’m not allowed to be…you know…This whole thing just makes me want to fall off a bridge into traffic.”

Georgi placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “It gets better, Viktor. This scandal will blow over, and it will get better.”

Viktor sniffed; at some point, he’d started crying, but he wasn’t aware of it until now. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “How—how did you know? About me?”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to miss. You’re skating to a gay love song this season. I don’t know how people keep ignoring that.”

“They just think it’s an error in the translation,” Viktor said with a shrug. “Yuuri says people only hear what they want to hear.”

Georgi chewed on his licorice and swallowed before he said, “I also might have followed you to the locker room yesterday to make sure everything was okay, and overheard some of your conversation.”

Viktor felt his stomach drop. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck.”

“Hey, at least it was me and not Vasiliev.”

Viktor shivered. “Pairs skaters kind of scare me. Like, it’s one thing for me to throw myself into the air, but to throw another human being, or to be thrown…that’s a lot of trust, and I don’t think I’ve ever trusted anyone that much. Fuck. When…when I talk to him, sometimes I forget to be cautious. I thought I was alone.”

“Well, you weren’t,” Georgi said, “but you also don’t have to be going forward. I—I heard what he said about your depression, and I don’t know how I could help, but if you need somebody, you can always call me. I mean, I’m no Yuuri Katsuki. But still, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Georgi,” Viktor said. He sniffed again and laughed. He was about to suggest they go back in before Yakov came hunting for them when his phone buzzed.

 

_From Yuuri:_

_Normally I’d be really grouchy if you woke me up in the middle of the night_

_Lucky you; I’m actually awake_

_Ugh I guess you put your phone down nvm_

_So when you see this, let me know, because I had an idea…_

_Well, I guess you had an idea, but I have an idea based on your idea?_

_What do you think of this song?_

{link}

{[ _Matchbox 20 – Unwell_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WziA88-n02k)}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will be on Saturday! I love you guys so much; thank you for reading this!!


	7. Chapter 7

**January 3, 2016, Midday – Detroit, USA**

{link}

{ **Figure Skating Community Responds to Doping Scandal** }

_ In an overwhelming show of support, several high-ranking and prominent figure skaters took to Instagram and Twitter yesterday to show support for Japanese Skater Yuuri Katsuki, who has recently been accused of doping, with some damning evidence in the form of photos at a rehab facility. The support for Katsuki, however, began quickly with an Instagram post from Katsuki’s roommate, Phichit Chulanont (THAILAND). _

**_phichit+chu_ ** _ Okay so I have to get this off my chest. Katsuki Yuuri is the best roommate and best friend I have ever had, and he definitely does not do drugs or use steroids or any of this bullshit that people are saying, and if you’re saying he does, you’re not welcome on my page. Boi, bye. I’ve watched Yuuri struggle up-close for the past three years, and I know I would never be half as successful as I am (and I still haven’t even been ceded into the GP!) if I dealt with what Yuuri goes through with his health. But he still manages to be super kind and considerate despite his problems. How dare you attack my bestie, Internet? How? Dare? You? If you comment anything hating on Yuuri on any of my posts ever, you will be #blocked #ISupportYuuriKatsuki _

_ The support continued to roll in with tweets from 2015 World Silver Medalist Christophe Giacometti (SWITZERLAND) and 2014 GPF Silver Medalist Cao Bin (CHINA). _

**_@christophe-g_ ** _ Anyone who’s talked with #YuuriKatsuki longer than 5 min knows he’d never dope and finds it disgusting. Calls dopers fuckheads repeatedly _

**_@christophe-g_ ** _ So let me be clear, #ISupportYuuriKatsuki _

**_@bin-cao4_ ** _ #YuuriKatsuki is the person I most enjoy sharing the podium with. These allegations are ridiculous. #ISupportYuuriKatsuki _

_ It wasn’t just the Men’s Singles competitors showing their support, as skaters from across the disciplines also chimed in. Ladie’s Singles Sara Crispino (ITALY) took to Instagram, and Mila Babicheva (RUSSIA) and fellow Team Japan member, Ice Dancer Michiko Higurashi, both showed their support on Twitter. _

**_sara-crispino_ ** _ Of all the people in figure skating who are least likely to use performance enhancing drugs, #YuuriKatsuki also least deserves this kind of treatment. We’ve been friends for a couple of years now, even if we’re not close or anything, but I can tell you that Yuuri is one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met, and if he weren’t super gay, I would be all over him lol. He’s kind and gentle and respects your personal space and an absolute riot when he lets himself cut loose. If he has an illness that requires occasional hospitalization, which is what the JSF statement implied, then it’s all the more remarkable that he’s made it as far as he has in skating, and we should be celebrating that accomplishment instead of maligning it and lying about it. #ISupportYuuriKatsuki and you should, too. _

**_@higurashi-michiko_ ** _ #ISupportYuuriKatsuki because he makes our Team Japan better. He would never dope! _

**_@mila-babicheva_** _I might not know him well, but_ _#ISupportYuuriKatsuki. My dad has a chronic illness too. You can do it, Yuuri!_

_ The biggest support, however, came from figure skating’s Golden Boy himself, Viktor Nikiforov (RUSSIA). Anyone who’s been a fan of Katsuki knows that Katsuki himself is a big fan of Nikiforov and often credits both the Russian gold medalist and Christophe Giacometti as influences in his skating career. However, until recently, it seemed as if Nikiforov and Katsuki were destined to never meet, as even at the past two World Championships, the two had never been seen together. So when Nikiforov posted this ode to his fellow skater on Instagram, we all listened. _

**_v-nikiforov_ ** _ The night of the GPF banquet, I wasn’t feeling too well. I missed my dog, I was stressed out, and I didn’t want to be around people. I ran into Yuuri Katsuki, and we had never properly met before. Yuuri was sick. I’m talking feverish and tremors and dizziness and can’t walk straight sick. I skipped the banquet to stay with him, and found out that his prescription medication had fallen out of his bag while he was packing for Sochi, and he hadn’t been able to take anything for his condition for several days. Without medication, Yuuri has a very difficult time functioning, but he never wanted people to know about his condition because he didn’t want to receive pity or sympathy that he felt he wasn’t due, and he didn’t want knowledge of his condition to affect the way judges saw his skating (which, I always feel like he’s underscored, but that’s another rant for another day). Without his medication, which he needs in order to maintain quality of life, his body went into shock. He hadn’t slept more than an hour straight in days, hadn’t been able to eat properly, hadn’t been able to maintain his balance because of sudden and random fits of tremors. He still skated. He skated, and he may have fallen many times, but he kept getting back up. On top of it all, and I did ask him if I could post this (he read it before I did)—his dog back home in Japan was run over by a drunk driver on the day of the free skate, and he found out just a couple of hours before he was scheduled to perform. His dog had been essential to Yuuri’s wellbeing growing up, and I can’t even imagine what I would have done if something happened to my Makkachin! Yuuri didn’t even have time to go home before he went to see his doctor in order to get control of his medical situation, but there was no room for him at the hospital. Because of the way his body was reacting to being deprived of his meds, his doctor recommended he stay at a rehabilitation facility, even though he has never once done illegal drugs and has never once used performance enhancing drugs. I find Yuuri’s willingness to do what it takes to take care of himself to be remarkable, and I find his determination to compete despite having what many would consider a disability to be beautiful. Yuuri inspires me to be a better person, and I am glad to know him now. #IStandWithYuuri because he is the bravest person I have ever met, and also the kindest and funniest. He is unafraid to be himself, proud of himself despite his struggles, and I think we should all strive to be a little more like him. _

_ These words of encouragement from Nikiforov have effectively chastised the figure skating media who have been reporting on this scandal, including us here at  _ 3Lu3T.com. _ We’d like to wish Katsuki a speedy and complete recovery from whatever his mystery condition is. _

 

 

Yuuri slid to a stop next to Phichit. “Did you get it?”

Phichit locked his phone and jumped in the air. “Yep! That was so beautiful, Yuuri! I think you should skate that next season for your free.”

“Thanks, Phichit,” Yuuri said. “It’s not…it’s not really well-developed yet, but I’d like to switch it out for my exhibition skate for Four Continents. Do you think Ciao-Ciao would let me?”

Phichit smiled, still bouncing in excitement over Yuuri’s performance. “Why wouldn’t he? That was so much more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen you skate. Your fans are going to love it. Your boyfriend is going to love it, too.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and sighed. “He’s not my—okay, he’s kind of—I mean, he said he wanted to be more than friends, but it’s not like we’ve defined the relationship yet.”

“Did you read what he posted on Instagram?”

“Of course I did. He did like three drafts that I rejected before I let him post that one. It’s still a little more information than I wanted to give, but if I didn’t let him post it, I think people would still be harassing me about drugs that I don’t do.”

Phichit shoved him softly on the shoulder with his elbow. “Now they’re just harassing you about your mystery illness.”

Yuuri smacked Phichit’s elbow away. “That’s why we’re doing this. It—it’s like with Ketty, you can’t lie because she’s got a mom-radar? If I just get this over with, then people will let it go more quickly, and maybe they’ll forget about it by the time Four Continents happens.”

“So you’re gonna go through with it? You’re going to post the video?”

“Yeah, I am.”

 

 

{link}

{ **Katsuki Yuuri, “Unwell”** }

{icon image: Yuuri alone on the ice at Detroit Skate Club, wearing black workout pants and a black To Write Love on Her Arms shirt}

57,049 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published January 3, 2016

Video description:

The past few weeks have been hard. I decided to skate about it to a song I relate to. – Yuuri

2,197 Comments

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**Lex** 2 hours ago Came for the scandal, stayed for the Matchbox 20

View all 31 replies

**thekillersaremyspiritanimal** 1 hour ago Lex you are not alone

**Helena’s Hearse** 1 hour ago Lex this is the only song by them that I like, but I like it a lot

**Actual Trash** 2 hours ago Aaaaah TWLOHA I love them!!!

View all 47 replies

**natsunatsunasty** 30 minutes ago Actual Trash all I’m saying is that there are better organizations

**Actual Trash** 30 minutes ago natsunatsunasty step off, okay. Resources from TWLOHA saved my sister’s life and got her to stop cutting, and I will support them until I die. And if Yuuri-kun supports them, then that’s all the more reason to love them!!

**Triple Triple Bitch** 30 minutes ago Okay, so I have been pretty wrapped up in Yuuri-kun’s whole doping scandal, which, don’t go reading the articles and giving those bottom-feeders clicks. After Viktor’s insta rant, I really started to wonder what would be wrong with Yuuri-kun. None of his symptoms that Viktor mentioned seemed to line up with any one illness that I know. But now it all makes sense, because I was thinking about physical illness, and not mental illness. You guys—poor Yuuri-kun. I know he hasn’t made any official statements or anything yet, but this is it for me. Yuuri-kun is suffering from a mental illness (probably anxiety or depression or something really heinous that sounds innocuous), and he’s trying to tell us to please stay with him as his fans, because he really can’t do this alone. YUURI-KUN, I AM WITH YOU!!! #IStandWithYuuri GANBATTE!!!

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**hkdgaf** 9 minutes ago Amorosa Mosa no one wants your negativity here. How dare you hop on this very positive comment chain about mental health and suggest that Yuuri-kun would be better off if he just killed himself. How. Dare. You. Back off before you get wrecked.

**Amorosa Mosa** 5 minutes ago hkdgaf kill yourself

**Inkoy Pens are Awesome** 7 minutes ago Amorosa Mosa, can you please stop? Everyone here was having a good time sharing their stories about their experiences, and I’m sure it was really cathartic for a lot of us, so can you please stop trolling us? It’s not nice, and your words could be genuinely hurtful to some of the people you’ve been replying to

**Amorosa Mosa** 5 minutes ago Inkjoy Pens are Awesome inkjoy pens are the worst shit, I only buy sharpie pens. go kill yourself.

**Cheio de Angustia** 45 minutes ago Às vezes é muito fácil esquecer que os famosos ainda são pessoas verdadeiras que também têm problemas com doenças mentais. Gosto de ver patinagem para acalmar-me e a minha ansiedade. Eu nunca pensei que os patinadores também poderiam ter ansiedade como a minha. Yuuri-kun, adoro-te!!

View all 145 replies

**Brasil Does it Better** 33 minutes ago oi encontrei um português adoro seu sotaque, se nota no escrito rsrs adorei Coimbra e Bragança quando fui :)

**Cheio de Angustia** 25 minutes ago olá sr. brasileiro (ou sra. brasileira?). Estou a pensar em passar férias no Brasil; onde é que um português deveria ir para conhecer o seu pais melhor? :) :) :)

**Everything will be fine with a little Xanax and wine** 1 hour ago #IStandWithYuuri because damn, this is beautiful skating and it’s clear he’s dealing with some kind of mental illness. This song is, after all, classic jams about mental illness. My soul is held hostage by anxiety so frequently, and realizing that Yuuri must be going through something similar, all I can think is how rough the past week must have been with the allegations. I mean, they’ve got to suck no matter what, but if someone accused me of doing drugs, I would probably cease to function for a month.

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**Valium is my favorite color** 15 minutes ago Everything will be fine with a little Xanax and wine omg I love your name. Not that we should mix anxiety meds with alcohol…but it’s pretty great!

**Something Next to Normal** 10 minutes ago Valium is my favorite color, I like your name a lot, too! N2N is such a wonderful show. I love the way they portray the never-ending adjustments with medication and the way she reacts to them. If Yuuri-kun went for a while without taking his meds when he was supposed to be, he was probably really struggling to keep it together at the GPF; I’m so proud of him for skating in spite of it all!

 

**January 5, 2016, Morning – Detroit, USA**

Yuuri waited at his desk in his apartment, computer and Skype open and running. He tapped his fingers against the desktop, tapped his foot on the floor. He checked the time. 10:29. His appointment was at 10:30.

After posting the video, Viktor and Phichit had both shared it, then the other skaters who had shown support shared it. In the span of two days, it had already been viewed over 90,000 times, and the count was still rising. He began to scratch at his arm. Morooka Hisashi had contacted him as soon as the first tabloid story showing him exiting The Meadows came out, and Yuuri avoided him like he avoided all of the other reporters. When the JSF released their statement, Morooka was the first reporter to contact him again. Within half an hour of posting “Unwell,” Morooka had begged him for an interview.

Yuuri thought about how supportive Morooka had been throughout his career and agreed.

When the Skype ringtone began filling the air with its bubbles and chimes, Yuuri jumped in his seat. He took a deep breath and released it before answering the call. “ _ Moshi-moshi _ , Morooka-san,” he said.

Morooka smiled at him and waved at his camera. “Hello, Katsuki-kun. How are you feeling?”

“Um, alive, I guess,” Yuuri said. He shifted around in his seat, foot still tapping on the ground. “Um. Are you already recording?”

“Not yet. I’m about to start, though. Is that okay?”

Yuuri nodded. “Mmhmm. I just…I’m a little nervous about this.”

Sympathy broke onto Morooka’s face. “Do you want to go through the questions before we record the interview? That way you know what’s coming and can think about your response a little bit?”

Yuuri looked over his shoulder and then back at the screen. “I—I’d like that. Yes, please.”

Morooka stretched his arms and shook a crick from his neck. “Alright. So, the first question is going to be about how you’re feeling, kind of like what I just asked you. For the recording, that’s to establish rapport with the viewers. You can be honest; you don’t have to lie and say you’re doing great if you’re not. I liked your answer before; I think people will find it funny.”

“Okay.”

“Then after that, I’d like you to talk about your inspiration for the ‘Unwell’ video, if you could. Your motivations for posting it, the theories that your fans have come up with. I feel we can safely say it’s gone viral, so I think it would be good to talk about it.”

Yuuri nodded. “I can do that.”

“The next question is going to be about your medication. You don’t have to tell me what you’re taking, but since Nikiforov-san’s Instagram post brought it up, I think that your fans will want to know if everything has gotten sorted out yet or not.”

“I don’t have to say what I’m taking?”

“Not if you don’t want to. If you do, then you’re free to, but you don’t have to answer any of these questions or provide any details that you’re uncomfortable with people knowing. Now, the next question is going to be about rehab.”

Yuuri began scratching his arm again. “It was so scary. I never want to go back again.”

Morooka listened and nodded. “Great. I mean, not great that it was scary, but that’s a great response to keep for the interview. Would you mind talking about a story or two from your time there?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. He moved his hand from his arm to the back of his neck and dug into the skin with his nails. “I-if I think of something, I can, but it was mostly…I was on suicide watch, so there really wasn’t a lot of liberty, so I don’t know if there are any good stories. I mostly just tried to keep my head down and avoid people so I could get out in time for Nationals. I still barely made it.”

“Okay. I’m really sorry you’re going through this, Katsuki-kun. Would you be willing to talk about your diagnosis?”

“Yes.” Yuuri spoke the word more firmly than he felt it; the only way for him to reclaim the narrative of his life completely was by revealing himself. He could do this, and he would. He willed his foot to stop tapping and relaxed his grip on the base of his neck. He took a deep breath. “Yes, I need to. It—I might have a hard time getting the words out, but I will talk about it, yes.”

“Thank you, Katsuki-kun,” Morooka smiled at him through the screen. “The next thing I’m going to ask about is the doping allegations. I think that people will want to hear you yourself saying that you don’t dope.”

“Only fuckheads dope,” Yuuri snapped. “ _ They’re _ the ones who make it hard for people like me to even  _ exist _ in fields like competitive athletics. When you have a mental illness, it can be so difficult to talk about it and reveal it because of the stigmas, even more so if you’re high-functioning because people won’t believe you, and when you take meds for them, a lot of those meds are banned because of the way people abuse them. So then, you have to give full disclosure and have papers signed and authorized by your doctors and the JSF and the ISU, and you have to meet with the people in person to get it all handled correctly when things change, and it’s just—people who do drugs, especially performance enhancing ones…they make it harder. I  _ never _ wanted to have to talk about my mental illness like this. I  _ never _ wanted this stuff to come out, because who wants to be that person? Who wants everybody else’s impression of them to be  _ oh, that’s the guy who can’t keep it together; that’s the guy who tried to kill himself _ . But because there are fuckheads who dope, now I have to. At least I’m reacting okay to my new meds now and my thyroid’s not getting fucked up or the million other things that could go wrong, because if I’d had to deal with this right after the Final, I really would have jumped off the fucking roof and  _ nobody _ would’ve been able to talk me down, not even Viktor.”

“Wow. That—can you remember all of that for later?”

“Oh. Sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to answer the question now. I’m just…I’ve been really frustrated…Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Katsuki-kun. It was a very honest answer, and I think the people who watch this will appreciate it, especially other people with mental illnesses. Coming forward with this is going to be a good thing for a lot of your fans.”

Yuuri began scratching at his arm again. “If I even have any fans after this.”

“Of course you’ll have fans. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Morooka-san,” he said, “most people in Japan would prefer it if people with mental illnesses didn’t exist. It’s why I chose to move abroad to train. I don’t have a large fan base to begin with; I will lose it completely with this.”

Morooka shook his head. “Your fan base is only going to grow, Katsuki-kun. I guarantee it. Okay, so the next question I want to ask is about the night of the banquet that you spent with Nikiforov-san.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I…I don’t want to…if I talk about what was going on with me, I’ll have to talk about what was going on with him, and I don’t want to do that to him. What he wrote on Instagram is enough. I don’t want a version out that’s ‘my side’ or anything. I don’t want…No, please don’t ask that.”

Morooka hesitated, but agreed. “Alright, I will strike that from the list. The last thing I’ve got planned is to ask if you have any type of advice for others who might suffer from similar conditions.”

“I—um, I can try? C-can I add something?”

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s—well, I do a lot of LGBT rights advocacy already, and I guess if I’m going to go public with this stuff, I want to be doing awareness things to. I just, there are a couple of organizations I’d like to bring up, the Trevor Project…maybe a suicide prevention number? I think it’s important. I don’t know, though. It’s—it’s just an idea…sorry, it’s probably stupid. Forget I asked.”

“No, I think it’s a great idea. I didn’t want to assume before we had this conversation, but I was pretty sure that we would end up on this note. Okay, this is all great material, Katsuki-kun. I’m really grateful that you’re willing to talk about this with me. Now, are you ready to begin recording?”

Yuuri took one more steadying breath and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do this.”


	8. Chapter 8

**January 6, 2016, Evening – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor lay on his couch, Makkachin heavy on his chest. He’d angled his neck so that his phone was propped up between his ear and the arm of the couch, leaving both hands free to cuddle his oversized poodle. He laughed and smiled while on the other end of the line, Yuuri gave him a recap of the interview he’d done with Morooka. He was alone in his apartment, and Yuuri was alone in his. Viktor tried to picture him, halfway around the world, lying on a couch or a mattress, his phone held tight with a hand to his ear. He wished he could be there instead of here—at any given moment, he wished he could be wherever Yuuri was. At least in the privacy of his own apartment, he could talk without fear.

“Seriously, Yuuri, ‘only fuckheads dope’ is trending now. I love it. This is the best possible outcome of this whole thing. Yakov even praised it as the best you could have done in your situation.”

“The best possible outcome would have been staying a relatively anonymous, dime-a-dozen skater from Japan.”

“Absolutely not,” Viktor said. “First of all, you have never been a dime-a-dozen skater. Second of all…I hate to sound selfish, but I really like having you in my life now. And for the first time in years, I kind of like my life a little now, too. So, if this whole thing…if this led me to you…”

“God, you’re so sentimental.”

“Yep, that’s my specialty. Sentimental and over-the-top.”

“ _Extra_.”

“Flamboyant, flirtatious. That’s me.”

“That’s part of you,” Yuuri said. “You’re also insightful and careful and beautiful and smart.”

Viktor smiled, warm to the tips of his toes. “You think I’m beautiful.”

Yuuri scoffed at him, and Viktor could feel the other man’s eyes rolling in his mind. “Anyone who doesn’t is a complete moron. Do we need to go over 12-year-old Yuuri’s first gay crush again? Because that shit is embarrassing.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“That—that’s a movie reference, too, right?”

“Viktor. Um, yes? _Star Wars?_ I mean…ugh. Off season. You and me. Maybe Phichit? Movies. All the movies. And games. Bring Yurio.”

“Yurio?”

“I was talking about Yuri Plisetsky with my sister, and she said she was going to call him Yurio to keep from getting confused…”

“Ha. I love it. He’s going to hate it. How is your family?”

Yuuri sighed. “They’re annoyed with me that I didn’t keep them in the loop about the whole ‘going to rehab’ thing, but they’re really proud of the way I handled the doping allegations. Mari-neechan is upset with me, but she apologized for calling about Vicchan when she did. I think she feels guilty, like that set me off. Um. I did tell them about some of what happened on the roof. I didn’t tell them why you were up there, too—I don’t—sorry, um. I think that your half of it is your story to tell.”

Viktor’s breath caught in his chest; blood pumped through his body, heated his cheeks and his ears. “You can tell your family if you want,” he heard himself saying. Since Phichit had figured it out, Viktor had assumed that those closest to Yuuri would understand that they’d both been there for the same reason. But Yuuri made no assumptions and covered for him, not because he was ashamed of how they met, but because he valued Viktor’s autonomy. He valued _Viktor_. “I…um. I don’t have a family myself, but I know most people don’t like to hide things from theirs. And you have a much better relationship with yours than I could ever have with anyone. So…you don’t have to lie for me if you don’t want to. Not with them.”

“I—” Yuuri started, then stopped. The line drew silent for a moment before Viktor could hear Yuuri take a deep breath. “It’s our story together, what happened that night. I don’t…I don’t regret it, because you—you’re more than I could ever hope for. I…I like you a lot, and um…I…I…I don’t want you to regret it either, I think…it’s, um. It’s important for me to own my story, and I think it’s important for you to own yours. What happened…we share it, but I want to be respectful of your half. Someday, you’re going to have a family. If it’s mine, I mean…I can’t say I haven’t thought about that before…but even if it’s not, even if you decide that you’re tired of me and never want to speak with me again…someday, you’re going to have that, Viktor. It’s…it’s your story to tell about where you were in your life. For me, it was just a happy coincidence that you were up there at the same time. Just like for you, it was a happy coincidence that I was there. So that’s how I’m telling it, not that I’m telling many people at all. I don’t…it’s not…Viktor, I can’t…ugh, I give up. Forget it. You can just ignore me.”

“Never,” Viktor said, rushing the word into the same second as Yuuri’s last word. “I will never ignore you, ever again, for as long as I live. I don’t care if it was a coincidence or fate or whatever—I am so glad I met you that night, Katsuki Yuuri. I’m so glad I get to be the one to hear you say these beautiful thoughts out loud.” Yuuri sniffed. Was he crying? Viktor wished they’d been on FaceTime instead of a regular call. He wanted to see Yuuri’s face. He wanted to wipe the tears from his cheeks with the pad of his thumb. He wanted Yuuri.

Yuuri broke the silence. “If I were a tsundere type, this is where I’d call you a _baka_ and punch your shoulder.”

Viktor could feel the tension of the conversation relax away. He chuckled. “I’d let you punch my shoulder any day.”

“Nope, no. No punching. Not a kink.”

Viktor grinned. “No punching. Okay. So, what is a kink for you, Yuuri?”

“Viktor, stop.”

“Why? You’re the one who brought it up. I’d like to have my—”

“Nonono!” Yuuri shouted. “We don’t need to have this conversation yet.”

“Not yet? But at some point? Oh, that reminds me of my question!”

“Your question? Kink negotiation reminds you of your question?”

“Uh huh. It does. Can I ask you a question, Yuuri?”

“I am going to hate this, aren’t I?”

“Depends on the follow-up questions. Can I ask you several questions, Yuuri?”

“I reserve the right to not answer any of your questions, as well as to ask you questions of a similar kind, because I have a feeling I know where this is going, and it is going to be embarrassing.”

“Okay, deal. So, my first question. How often did you masturbate to thoughts of me while you were growing up?”

“I fucking knew it. Fuck you, Nikiforov. Fuck you.”

“In your teenage fantasies, were you fucking me or was I fucking you?”

“Ugh. Why. Why are you asking me this?”

“Because you’re the sexiest person I know, and the fact that you think that way about me really turns me on.”

“Oh. You’re—you’re turned on?”

“Do you want me to check? Do you want a picture?”

“Nono, that’s—I mean…um wow. Okay…so, the answer to your first question is kind of a lot? The second is definitely both. Um. The third…I know I don’t need to for myself, but if you think you do, maybe you’re not as turned on as you think you are. And…I guess the fourth…um…do you?”

Viktor inhaled, sharp. “Holy shit yes. I mean, if you’re…Are you serious?”

“Mmm, maybe. I’ve never taken one before, at least not sober, but if you really wanted it…I would send you a picture, yeah.”

“I do. I want it. I definitely want it.” He pushed Makkachin until the old dog huffed and jumped to the floor. His phone buzzed under his ear. “Oh my god. Yuuri. You…you want one, too, right?”

“Anything that’s more explicit than that shoot you did for _Sports Illustrated_ in 2013, please.”

Viktor whined as he pulled himself free of the sweatpants he was wearing. He had to avoid looking at the pic Yuuri had sent him in order to focus on staging the perfect image. With the selfie mode on, he held the phone away so that his torso and pelvis were in the frame. He tugged once on his penis, snapped the photo, then sent it. “Okay, sent,” he said. “Can I…look at yours now?” He put the call on speakerphone.

Yuuri gasped. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I said no that night. What the fuck is wrong with me.”

Viktor took that as permission and opened the photo. Yuuri was lying on his bed, shirt off, glasses skewed on his face. At the bottom edge of the photo, his fully-erect penis stood at an angle. His free hand rested comfortably on his stomach, and his eyes…those deep, brown eyes. “I want to have sex with you, Yuuri. Right now. I need a teleporter.”

“Am I on speakerphone?”

“Sorry, yes. I, um. I wanted to see…”

“C-can I put you on speakerphone, too?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Wait, let me lock my bedroom door just in case.” Viktor heard the shuffling of feet and the click of a lock. Then the spring of a mattress squeaking. “Okay. Um. Hi.”

“Hello,” Viktor breathed out. “This is…”

“Do you want to do this?”

“Do you?”

“I—yes. Can I—do you mind if I touch myself?”

“Oh god, Yuuri, please.”

“Okay. Mmm. You too.”

Viktor held his phone with one hand, eyes glued to the picture of Yuuri. With his other, he wrapped around the base of his penis. “I haven’t ever done anything like this before.”

Yuuri laughed and groaned. “You mean you’ve never jerked off?”

“Never like this. Hnngh. Yuuri, if I were there, what would you want me to do?”

Yuuri didn’t respond for a minute. “I’d want you,” he said, voice low and dark, “to lie very still while I suck you off. I am very good at sucking cock, or so I’ve been told. So. I’d want you to feel my mouth around you. Hmmm and I’d hum like that, and you’d…Viktor…you…what do you want?”

“Yuuri…I’d like to…I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?”

“Can’t…think…just want you.”

“Oh. Aah, me too. I want you. _Zutto_. Viktor—”

“Yuuri—”

Rapid breaths came through the phone, and Viktor’s own breathing was just as erratic. In the back of his mind, he wished he had lube, but he didn’t care enough to do something about it. He used his precum, pulled, tugged, no rhythm to it anymore. He’d long since dropped the phone on his chest, the image of Yuuri staring at the ceiling along with him. “Vi—I’m—”

Just knowing Yuuri was gone pushed Viktor over the edge. Silence fell on the line, continents and time zones and catharsis swimming in a riot inside Viktor’s mind, screaming for _more, again—more, again._ Yuuri in his mind’s eye, Yuuri on his phone…soon, Yuuri under his tongue and teeth. _More, again. Yuuri_.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Yuuri’s voice broke through the cacophony of thought to break the silence. “Oh my god. I can’t reach the tissues without moving. I don’t want to move.”

“Yuuuuuuri,” Viktor said, voice raw and needy.

“Viktor?”

Viktor sat up. His shirt was covered in cum. He placed the phone on the couch and carefully pulled the shirt from his body. “I—are you familiar with Russian patronymics and diminutives?”

“Not really, sorry. Sh-should I be? Oh god. I’m so culturally insensitive. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really know anything about Japanese naming systems either. Hey. I want you to call me Vitya.”

“Vitya?” His voice through the phone was soft, questioning. He tasted the word and its edges, and the sound of it in his mouth sent a flurry of joy through Viktor’s already spent body.

“It’s the diminutive of Viktor. Only people who are close—friends, family, loved ones—use diminutives. Most people either refer to me with my patronymic or just my given name, both of which are considered formal. My rink mates call me Viktor. The doorman of my building calls me Viktor Andreievitch. The only person in my life who calls me Vitya is Yakov. I’d…please call me Vitya.”

“Okay. I can do that, Vitya. I would love to. Vitya. I like it. _Anno_ , Vitya?”

“Hmm?”

“There are…in Japanese, we have honorifics. They’re kind like how in English you call someone Mister this or Miss that, only after the name instead of before. It’s kind of complicated, because the honorific that you use indicates your relationship with a person…and there’s…um, never mind…it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“No, tell me. What honorific would you use for me?”

“Um…well…I don’t know… I think that –san is too formal and –chan doesn’t fit right because it makes me think of Vicchan. I guess technically, you could be considered my senpai, but that doesn’t feel right either…there is this one, though…it’s…well, there’s really only two uses for it, and that’s babies or intimate couples…are…we’re a couple, right? Sort of at least?”

Makkachin jumped back on the couch, and Viktor looped an arm around her. “Yuuri! Of course. Please, _yes_. I would sell my soul to be your boyfriend. I think I’ve told you that before.”

“O-okay. I thought so, but…I just wanted to be sure…because I mean, that whole gay awakening thing…not a lot of people end up in clandestine affairs with their first real celebrity crush, so…you really do want me?”

Viktor couldn’t help the soft chuckle. He looked at the shirt he’d thrown on the floor. “Yuuri, we just had phone sex. Of course I want you. So, tell me, what’s this special honorific that’s only used for babies and intimate couples?”

He could practically hear Yuuri’s blush through the line. He looked at the photo again, stared into the image of Yuuri’s eyes while Yuuri said, “It’s [–tan](https://www.quora.com/What-does-the-Japanese-honorific-tan-mean#). Vitya…when it’s just the two of us…on the phone, in person…only when we’re alone…would you call me Yuu-tan?”

“Yuu-tan…I would love to, Yuu-tan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "-tan" makes me think of Subaru and Emilia-tan. #remisbestgirl
> 
> EDIT: One of my commenters pointed out that -tan is a very rare honorific that is primarily used to cutesify things, and I think that Yuuri did make a point to say that it's used with babies. After I noticed it in Re:Zero, I did research -tan, and this is what I ended up using as my frame of reference for choosing it for this fic: https://www.quora.com/What-does-the-Japanese-honorific-tan-mean#
> 
> I'm also going to go back into the text and hyperlink it there when Yuuri's talking.
> 
> Here's what the linguist on Quora said:
> 
> "Originally, “tan” is a baby-talk version of “chan”, placed after one’s name. It’s usually used before one enters elementary school, esp. when an infant has a hard time saying “chan”. IRL some kids may refer to themselves as “boku-tan” as a boy. Other times, it’s mainly used for girls.
> 
> Culturally, there are times when adults use it. For example:
> 
> Between adults, when they are in a close romantic relationship, only in private, to show affection. (You usually refrain from using it when in public.)
> 
> At a drinking “club” with hostesses who sit with you, or at places that purportedly provide you sexual pleasure, staff women may refer to themselves with the honorific “tan”, provided the customer has such fetish - as part of customer service."
> 
> I think it's important to note that -tan in any case seems to be super uncommon. I am not a speaker of more than novice-level Japanese, but I am a very effective googler. And within English language search results, I had a difficult time figuring out exactly what -tan meant. The Quora article I've linked to seemed like the most reliable source I could find in English, because it is rare as fuck or something.
> 
> Consider this to be Weeaboo Japanese 101 ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**January 8, 2016, Afternoon – Windsor, Canada**

Yuuri climbed into the back seat of Ketty’s car behind the driver. Phichit was in the front passenger seat, and Alex Garrison was behind him. “Hey, guys,” he said, pushing his backpack into the middle seat. “Ket. Um. I didn’t know you were all coming to pick me up; I thought it was just Ketty.”

“Sorry,” Ketty said. “I was gonna come get you first, but things just kind of happened and here we all are. I should’ve texted you.”

“We’re not done,” Alex said. “We’ve still got to go get Lev. How you holding up, Katsuki?”

“Okay, I guess. Still alive.”

“That’s the way we like you, Yuuri!” Phichit yelled in the front seat. He twisted until his torso was halfway into the back. “I need your help with some homework after this,” he said. “Also, I need you to remind me to never take a J-term class ever again.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “I’m not in charge of your schedule, Phichit-kun. If you want to waste your January with—what are you taking?”

“Physics.” He fell back into his seat properly and looked at Yuuri through the mirror.

“Oh. Physics is fun, though. Best science. Egg drops. Paper planes. Yeah.”

“Your major is psychology,” Ketty said. “That is a science.”

“Well, it’s a  _ soft _ science.”

“Soft shell crab is still crab,” she countered, “and it still gives me hives.”

“Shellfish isn’t kosher.” Alex said, grin wide and eyes teasing.

“Alex Garrison, how long have we been friends? You should know by now that I’m reform. I eat bacon. You have seen this happen. More than once.”

“Why does everyone always call me by my first and last name together?”

Yuuri said, “Ketty is three-quarters Russian. Vitya says that in Russia, people by default use both first and middle names for everyone. Three-quarters of that would be your first and last name.”

Ketty swerved on the road, then adjusted and regained control. “Oh my god, you called him ‘Vitya.’ Yuuri, please tell me you’re getting laid the next time you see him. Also, patronyms aren’t exactly the same as middle names, but whatever. It’s a similar concept.”

“Who’s Vitya?” Alex asked, voice tight. Yuuri sensed his unease at being out of the loop and felt guilty. It wasn’t that he disliked Alex Garrison, it was that Alex harbored a very vocal and very unrequited crush on Yuuri. If Alex didn’t ask him out once a week, Yuuri thought they would be much better friends. As it was now, Alex came along when Phichit was involved because Phichit liked him and because he let himself be the butt of the joke without ever getting offended. Without someone to act as a buffer, though, Yuuri didn’t spend time with him alone. He didn’t want to lead the younger man on.

Yuuri dodged the question and focused on the woman in the driver’s seat. “He asked me to, so yeah. He, um…well…”

“Yuuri had phone sex with him. Twice. Yesterday was really loud.”

“PHICHIT CHULANONT!”

Alex groaned and let his head hit the back of the seat. He stared at the ceiling of the car. “Fuck it, you were never going to date me anyway. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so depressed. I might die of heartbreak.”

“Sorry, Alex…”

“Hey,” he said, brightening. He sat up and turned to look at Yuuri. “You didn—”

“Garrison. Alex Garrison. I can’t  _ not  _ say it anymore. Sorry, Alex Garrison. You know, Phichit is single. And gay.”

“I definitely identify as pansexual homoromantic, thank you very much, Katsuki Yuuri.”

“Would you really have sex with a girl, Phichit?” Ketty said. “You told me that we have cooties.”

Yuuri clucked his tongue. “Not fair, Ketty. That was before he took the gender and sexuality seminar with me. He didn’t know any better. He also started college when he was just a smol boy.”

“Aww! Yuuri, you called me smol! You spelled that with an O and one L, right? Because that’s how I heard it in my head. Also, Ketty, vaginas are soft. That’s nice. You should know this; you have one.”

Alex poked Phichit in the back of the head. “Aren’t you a virgin?”

“That has no bearing on whether or not vaginas are soft, Alex Garrison,” Phichit shot back. “I think I would like a vagina. I just can’t see myself falling in love with a woman.”

“Can you stop calling me by my first and last name now? The point has been made.”

“Alex Garrison Alex Garrison Alex Garrison.”

“Phi, don’t be vindictive. Alex Garrison has a hard life. I mean, he’s been trying and failing to get in Yuuri’s pants for two years.”

Yuuri stretched and yawned. “How come all we ever talk about is sex. Seriously.”

Alex shoved Yuuri’s shoulder with his elbow and smiled. “We missed you, Yuuri. This is your welcome back into the group now that you’re not avoiding everyone except Phichit.”

Phichit laughed. “He’d probably have avoided me too if we didn’t live together and practice together, no offense, my platonic love.”

“You guys are the worst. Why. Just. Why.”

Ketty’s classic rock station began playing “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” and she clicked the volume up on her steering wheel. “If any one of you losers interrupts my jam session, I will kick you out,” she said. Silence took over the conversation, the air enveloped by Axl Rose, Slash, and Ketty’s belting voice that had made it to All-Ontario Chorus in grade eleven. After the final guitar licks tapered out, she sighed and turned the volume down. “So, Yuuri,” she said once the radio moved onto advertisements for Mattress World, “how was your appointment?”

He shrugged and sank back into his seat. “Fine, I guess.” Alex Garrison knew about his problems; by now, everyone did, but he didn’t know if he felt comfortable talking about them with him in the car. Before he’d had the falling out with Ketty, though, she’d been one of the people who most frequently picked him up from Dr. Kyper’s office, and she always asked him how it had gone.

“Yuuri…”  _ Mom-radar _ .

“What?” he snapped. “I’m coming back in a week for the next adjustment. It’s going fine. I haven’t killed myself yet, so we’re good.”

Phichit reached a hand into the back seat and placed it on Yuuri’s knee. “You say these things as if you can pass them off as humor and sarcasm like we don’t all know that you are, in fact, at least mildly suicidal most of the time. So, can you not?”

Yuuri pulled his knees away from Phichit, but there wasn’t enough space to shake the hand. The weight of it through his jeans irritated him, so he flicked at the webbing between Phichit’s thumb and forefinger. Phichit squeezed his knee before letting go. Yuuri scratched at the place where the hand had been. “Nothing more fucking hilarious than a noose and a loaded gun.”

A beat, then two, passed in dead silence. Ketty said, “Should I turn the car around and take you back to Dr. Kyper?”

He groaned. “God. No. Seriously, can we not right now? Let’s just go get Lev. What are we even doing? Would I rather be at home?”

Ketty sighed. “You would not rather be at home, because at home you will not be, so don’t dwell on it as if it were an option. It’s the Hillel club’s pre-semester party. We miss you at the Hillel club. Things aren’t as interesting without our token Shinto.”

“But you have your token Buddhist still, right?”

“Yuuri,” Phichit said, “maybe we should’ve started a club for East Asian religions when we took the world religions seminar. Should we do that now? You’re never graduating, right?”

“Hey,” Alex whined, “we work really hard at Hillel club. Are we not good enough for you?”

“I am too going to graduate,” Yuuri snapped. “Shut up. And I like Hillel club, sorry I didn’t come more, Alex. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t really go to GSA much last semester, either.”

“I know, it’s not fair,” Alex said. “But it was probably a good idea to lay low there for a while. Your ex started showing up a bunch more, and that would’ve been awkward.”

Yuuri shivered.

Ketty pulled up in front of a white house that Yuuri recognized vaguely as being Lev’s parents’ home. Lev was waiting for them there. Yuuri pulled his bag into his lap, and Alex shifted into the middle seat for Lev to get in the car. With a quick check that the seat belts were all buckled, Ketty pulled away and headed back toward campus.

Yuuri watched the scenery pass through the window, body pulled tight against the door. He could do this. He could sit next to Alex, he could stay through at least an hour of the Hillel club’s party. He could smile and laugh and make it through until he could go home and hide and play with Phichit’s hamsters. He could do this.

 

**January 9, 2016, Late Afternoon – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor’s phone buzzed and he rushed to unlock it. He’d been texting off and on with Yuuri all morning, only to remember the time difference in time to make sure Yuuri got at least six hours of rest in a bed, even if he didn’t sleep. He should be getting up around now.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Did I tell you about the Hillel club party I got dragged to? _

_ It was all I could do to keep from ditching, seriously _

_ I am a horrible person who doesn’t deserve human sympathy _

_ And I love the Hillel club! _

_ The whole time I just wanted everyone around me to disappear _

 

He hummed to himself while he tapped out his reply. He was still at the rink, skates off and in his locker, sneakers sitting on the bench beside him. He wasn’t tired, which was odd for him after a full day of practice. His stamina was fine, but it wasn’t excellent, and he knew that the longer he kept pushing himself to compete, the more quickly it would deteriorate. He needed to take a break now; he could come back in forty-five minutes to hit the ice alone.

He appreciated the late afternoons when he stayed behind to work on new choreography. Yakov gave up lecturing about how he should focus on the current season years ago, but he was resigned to these under-booked afternoons most of the time. With Europeans coming up at the end of the month, Yakov’s tolerance for Viktor’s flights of fancy was low. Viktor liked his programs and liked working on them, but he always had three or four half-formed things rioting in the back of his mind, and he valued that alone time to work them out.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I know how you feel. One of the reasons I moved out of the dorms was so that I wouldn’t have to deal with people all the time _

_ It’s like, when you want to be alone is when people most want your attention _

_ And god forbid you brush someone off _

_ Wait—are you Jewish? _

 

He looked up when he heard a throat clear, tense. “Georgi, I didn’t realize you were still here.” He relaxed again.

“How is he?”

“Jewish? Maybe? I thought he was Shinto…”

“Wha…I’m not going to ask. I finally watched that video he did.”

“What did you think?”

Georgi dropped his gym bag on the floor and leaned against a wall of lockers. “I cried when he landed the quad Salchow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him land it perfectly before. If he could skate like that in competition, there’s no way you’d have five consecutive GPF golds.”

“I know. If he ever skates like that in competition, I can say goodbye to the world record, too. His programs don’t deserve him. He’s amazing.”

“You don’t feel threatened by it?”

Viktor looked around the locker room to double-check that it was just him and Georgi present. “Nah. I’m…he distracts me. In a good way. If it’s you or Chris, no offense, I’ll probably be petty and annoyed, but if it’s him…I’ll be too happy for him to feel upset.”

“Ah,” Georgi sighed and flicked his wrist so that the back of his hand ended resting on his forehead, “young love. To be at that stage again with my Anya.”

Viktor rolled his eyes.“How long have you been dating, exactly?”

“Longer than  _ you _ . Less than a year. More than eight months. I think…I might ask her to marry me.”

“Really? Congratulations, Georgi! That’s so exciting! Do you have a ring yet? When are you going to do it?”

“I don’t have a ring, no. I’m planning to wait until after Worlds; I don’t want to cloud either of our judgments for competition. She’s very dedicated, you know.”

“Well, so are you.” Viktor’s phone buzzed, and he hurried to open it, a huge smile growing across his face when he saw more messages from Yuuri. “Confirmed: not Jewish,” he said to Georgi.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ no, I’m not. But Ketty invited me to come with her once freshman year, and I just kind of kept going? _

_ ugh I know. it’s like why can’t I just be alone _

_ I’m clearly upset and grumpy _

_ And not interested in occupying the same space as anyone _

 

Viktor didn’t know how to reply, and it looked like Yuuri was still typing, animated ellipses haunting the bottom of the chat. He locked the phone again and set it down. He shoved his feet into pre-laced sneakers, tugged on the tongues to keep them from bunching up.

Georgi sat on the other side of Viktor’s gym bag. “I noticed the name of that YouTube channel.”

Viktor froze, foot in hand, and swallowed. “It wasn’t my idea, the name. The channel was my idea. His best friend came up with the term, and I…I liked it, I thought it was funny. It’s—it’s not too much, is it?”

“I don’t think so,” Georgi said. He paused, thoughts forming behind his eyes. “Are you going to be posting videos on it, too?”

“That’s the plan,” Viktor brightened up, “Actually, I was thinking about using that song that you sent me the other day for my first one.”

“Oh? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you skate to anything with rap in it. Or something in a non-European language.”

“I know, it’ll be a surprise. Plus, I think…you said the other day that it gets better, and I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I don’t…I don’t know if it will or not, but if it does…” He petered off, unable to finish his thought. Talking with Georgi was new—how long had he known the other skater? Twelve years? Longer than he’d known Chris. Their relationship had always been marred by the competitive nature of their sport, and for a long time, Viktor didn’t think he would have ever even associated with the other man if not for a shared rink. Within skating, Georgi was his dark shadow: constantly at number two in Nationals, constantly one step behind. Even his birthday was the day after Viktor’s. Georgi, Viktor had always been sure, must have been consumed with jealousy. Viktor would have been if their roles were reversed.

And until recently, Viktor knew that jealousy was there. It was present in the way they spoke to each other, the way they joked, the way they passed in the hall. When did the tension break? Viktor couldn’t remember. He had never been bothered by the jealousy, only ever mildly amused.  _ What is the point of being jealous of me? _ he would think. echoes of a gunshot and an ultimatum ringing between his ears. Jealousy. If Viktor hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own mind, hadn’t been the central sun to his own chilled existence on his outer edges, he would have been jealous of Georgi. Family, life, love—Georgi embodied them, even more so since he’d begun dating Anya. Georgi may have been second-best in Russian skating, but he was champion in a race Viktor couldn’t even enter.

“So you want to make a video that’s hopeful, is what you’re saying.”

Viktor chuckled at himself. “Crazy, right? I don’t know if I have a right to feel hopeful, or to tell anyone else to try it. But that’s how I’ve been feeling, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before. Yuuri—he makes that happen for me. I want to make a video that will help make it happen for him.”

They both jumped when Viktor’s phone began buzzing again. Yuuri must have decided to say what he’d been thinking about. Viktor opened the app.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Especially not Alex Garrison _

_ That was the worst part _

_ Alex Garrison crying that I’m never going to date him. _

_ I turned him down drunk once. _

_ Me. Drunk. _

_ Drunk Yuuri turned him down _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Wow. Even Drunk Yuuri’s not into this guy _

_ At least he respected the no _

 

“Do you need any help filming your video?” Georgi asked.

“Hmm. I was planning on shooting it in an hour or so after I get something to eat. If you want, you can come, but I have a tripod for my phone, so I shouldn’t need it. It would cut down on editing time, though, to have someone start recording after I’m already on the ice.”

“Okay, then. I can help with that,” Georgi said. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and while he was checking his messages, Viktor returned his attention to his own phone and tapped out a text to Yuuri.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Anyway, I was thinking about posting a video to our channel _

_ I am still so glad you decided to start a YouTube channel with me _

 

“I’ll meet you back here in an hour,” Georgi said. “Anya wants me to come look at something; it shouldn’t take too long. See you then?” He extended his hand for a shake.

Viktor grabbed the extended hand and shook it once. “Sure, see you then.”

Georgi grabbed his bag from the floor and disappeared from the locker room. Viktor’s phone buzzed.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Really?? Sweet!! I love watching you skate!!!! _

_ What song? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ So…did I tell you yet that Georgi found out? _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Found out? About you? About us? What did he find out? Should I be concerned? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ He asked me how my boyfriend was doing… _

_ He’s not going to tell anyone. I don’t think. _

_ He’s actually really open minded and I had no idea because of how aggressively straight his relationships are. _

_ I talked with him a little about what I’ve been going through _

_ the depression and stuff. _

_ He told me it gets better. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Really cliché, but go on. _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ At least people tell you that.  _

_ I’m 27 and no one has ever told me that it gets better. _

_ …  _

_ They mostly say, “Oh, Viktor, you’re already the best! Sign my baby’s forehead!” _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Somebody asked you to sign a baby?!?!?!?!?!?! _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ It happens more than you think… _

_ Anyway, so Georgi sent me this song, and it really meant a lot to me, and I think… _

_ Well, I think you should hear it, too, so I want to skate to it for you. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ I might implode. The fanboy in me is dying right now. Bury him with blue roses and body glitter. _

_ so…what’s the song?? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

{ _ link _ }

{ [ **Bondan Prakoso, Fade to Black – Ya Sudahlah** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WyLVrtLhvk) }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On GSA and Hillel Club:
> 
> Yuuri and Ketty began school in Detroit at the same time; they were in a freshman orientation group together where they were partnered up in an icebreaker game, and then coincidentally in a gen ed requirement class together their first semester. Since Yuuri's anxiety is at least partially social, he stuck to Ketty because he already knew her. They went to the clubs/activities fair together, and since Yuuri is hella gay and Ketty is pretty damn Jewish, they agreed to check out both clubs together. Lev wouldn't start school until the next year, so he'd be a normal-type senior in this story (as opposed to Yuuri who is a super senior, and Ketty who was in a 5-year joint BFA/MFA program), and he is president of the Hillel club and also Ketty's boyfriend. He doesn't go to GSA because he doesn't have time. Alex Garrison would be a junior. His first semester, he went to both Hillel and GSA during the second week of classes, as he is both Jewish and gay. At Hillel, he recognized Ketty and Yuuri and decided to become friends with them because they were in the same clubs. Phichit started college early, and is a sophomore this year? Because he'd be 18-19 this academic year, and that's normally freshman year for a lot of people. Phichit didn't understand Yuuri's interest in the clubs at first, but Yuuri talked him into taking the world religions class and the intro to gender/sexuality class (Yuuri was technically the upperclassman tutor for this course and didn't have to be there, but he wanted to), and after that, Phi came out and became super involved in both clubs as well.
> 
> On Ketty:
> 
> Ketty's maternal grandparents are Russian Jews who immigrated to Canada around the time of WWII. Ketty's paternal grandmother is also Russian, but those grandparents live in Georgia, outside of Tbilisi. Her father moved from Tbilisi to Canada in the early 1980s and is a naturalized Canadian citizen.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Denrhea's birthday! I was going to write a gift fic, but I woke up this morning to a text from my aunt saying that she and my grandma are going to be here in a half an hour (they live nine hours away from me), so I decided to post two chapters of this today, because I know how much Den loves this story :)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEN!!!!!!!

**January 9, 2016, Night – St. Petersburg, Russia**

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov, “Ya Sudahlah”** }

{icon image: Viktor alone on the ice wearing black and gray workout clothes, arms raised}

 

61,171 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published January 9, 2016

Video description:

Georgi showed me this song and told me things get better. I wanted to share it. – Viktor

 

{link} {“Ya Sudahlah Lyrics in English}

3,204 Comments

Add a public comment

 

 **belladonna** 3 hours ago is it just me, or did I completely miss that this channel is called Viktuuri Skate Vids when Yuuri-kun’s video came out? So, is this a general collab between Viktor and Yuuri? Why the shippy couple name?

        View all 37 replies

        **phichit+chu** 3 hours ago You’re welcome for the name ;)

                    **belladonna** 3 hours ago phichit+chu holy shit are you really real? A real skater replied to me???

 

 **Butchy Butch** 4 hours ago So am I the only one seeing this as a coming out thing? Viktor’s description on this video says that his rink mate Georgi (love that Firebird skate, Gosha) sent him the song with the message “it gets better.” I don’t want to go too far off, but does anyone else remember the It Gets Better Project? A bunch of famous people made videos saying it gets better, aimed at suicidal LGBT+ youth. Similar to the Trevor Project, which Yuuri repped in his interview. I know there’s been lots of debate over on Tumblr on whether or not Viktor is gay, but what if he’s just very seriously in the closet? I learned a couple of weeks ago in a completely unrelated discussion that apparently, it’s illegal to talk about homosexuality in public in Russia, so what if this is his way of coming out? Or starting to, at least?

        View all 307 replies

        **Nikifork** 2 hours ago Butchy Butch FOR FUCKS SAKE HES NOT FUCKING GAY WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE TO BE FUCKING GAY FOR YOU FUCKING FAGS

                    **Butchy Butch** 2 hours ago Nikifork Not everyone has to be gay. If everyone were gay, that would be called homonormativity. BUT instead it’s heteronormativity. What gives you the right to feel superior and to drop disgusting slurs like they’re fucking word candy. It’s not about whether or not we want another gay icon; we want members of our community to feel safe in their own existence. If Viktor decides to come out, he’ll face a lot of discrimination, especially in Russia…

 

 **Viktuuri Is Real** 2 hours ago IM CALLING THIS NOW. THOSE BOYS ARE FUCKING EACH OTHER LIKE GAY BUNNIES. THANK YOU FOR THE AWESOME SHIP NAME, BECAUSE I SHIP THIS SHIP LIKE THE NINA PINTA AND SANTA MARIA.

        View all 1,231 replies

        **april ludgate is my spirit animal** 1 hour ago Viktuuri is Real SHIPPED AND SHIPPED

        **Korrasami Is Canon** 30 minutes ago Viktuuri is Real I’m already bookmarking the good RPF of this ship; there’s not much out there yet, but give it a couple more hours.

 

 **aku <3 bubur ayam** 45 minutes ago lagu kesukaan gue!!!!!!!

       View all 49 replies

 **Pangandaran Princess**  23 minutes ago aku <3 bubur ayam Bondan Prakoso memang yang terbaik! Aku pernah nonton konser mereka di Bandung :) :)

 **aku <3 bubur ayam** 15 minutes ago Pangandaran Princess #iri (‡▼益▼)

 

 

**January 11, 2016, Noon – Detroit, United States**

 

Yuuri sat on a bench near the ice, feet elevated. Celestino sat near him, notebook in hand. “Are you sure that this is how you want to rearrange your jumps?”

“Mmhmm, I want to try it this way for a while. Vitya says I can take bronze with the programs the way they are now, but I looked at it, if I switch things up, I should have a higher base value than Chris. I should be able to take silver if I don’t fuck up the quad sow.”

Celestino looked over Yuuri’s carefully-detailed list of program changes for both the short program and the free skate. “Backloading your programs will take advantage of your stamina, but you won’t be out of the woods with the tremors and the attacks for another month.”

“They’ve been slowing down,” Yuuri said. “I’ve only had one panic attack today so far. Two weeks ago, I’d have had three or four by now. I—I might not perform it well at Four Continents, but I should be able to do this by Worlds. C-can…can I try it?”

“We can work on it this way for the next week, but if I don’t think it’s doable after that, then we’re switching it back to how it was before.”

“I want to get on the podium at Worlds.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear. Are your feet ready for another round?”

“I think so.”

“Alright. I’m going to go grab a coffee. Stretch it out before I get back; you have about seven minutes until you’re on the ice.”

“ _Hai_ , Coach.”

Yuuri stood from the bench, wincing slightly when he put his weight on his feet. His morning had been dedicated to the quad Salchow, again. At least he had something to show for it now; his success rate in practice this morning had been 85%. Enough to believe he could move it to the second half of his SP without any problems, and almost enough to believe he could push it to the second half of his FS as well. He shook out his limbs, bent, and grabbed the backs of his heels. With his head tucked as close to his sternum as he could push it, he held the pose for a count of ten before switching to a lunge.

When Celestino got back, Yuuri was already re-lacing his skates for another hour and a half on the ice. He removed the guards and handed them to Celestino, then slid to the center of the ice. “Which one do you want me to do?”

Celestino took a sip of his coffee and checked the time on his watch. “Let’s run your short with the changes you want, no music, then see if it needs to be tweaked any more in order to make it work for flow before running it again with the track. Sound good?”

“Okay.” He got into his starting position and took a deep breath before beginning his routine.

 

 

 

**January 12, 2016, Late Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

 

Makkachin whined and pushed Viktor with her paws. Viktor groaned and rolled in his bed. Today was his rest day; his only obligations were to Makkachin and himself. Makka nudged him again, hitting his cheek with her wet nose.

“Okay, fine,” Viktor said, shoving the dog off of his chest and rolling toward the edge of the mattress. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head. “Do you need to go out, Makka-girl?”

Makkachin brightened at the word _out_ and skipped toward the apartment door. Viktor texted Yuuri a quick good morning, checked the weather app and pulled on sweats and heavy boots. He looped around the block with Makkachin, waited while she sniffed at the decorative trees lining the sidewalk and the street. No one was in the road, so he thought about leaving her droppings on the ground and walking away, but his guilty conscience got the better of him and he stooped to pick it up and tie it into a long plastic bag. He threw the bag in a tall can outside of a townhouse diagonally across the block from his building. Around the corner, a tortoiseshell cat licked her paws and hissed at Makkachin when she pulled Viktor closer to the feline.

Back inside, he nodded quickly to Pavel Nikolaievitch and made a beeline for the elevator. The doorman waved in return, but didn’t call out. Viktor pressed the call button and waited, stepped aside when the door opened and a resident he recognized as living on the floor below him came through.

Inside the elevator, Viktor pressed the button for his floor, watched it light under his fingertips. He scratched Makkachin behind her ears. When the doors slid open on his floor, he sighed in relief that he’d made it without another person getting into the same elevator car. Makkachin jumped on his chest when the elevator door started to close; had he zoned out for a few seconds? He pressed the door open button quickly and exited the opening doorway, reached his own door, pushed the key in the lock.

The fridge was almost empty again, but he didn’t feel hungry yet anyway, so he ignored it. He went back into the bedroom and picked up his phone from the end table where he’d left it charging.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_hahahahaha morning._

_I definitely have slept, and this is definitely me waking up in the morning_

_Yes._

_I 100% went to bed at a reasonable hour and am now wishing you a good morning._

 

Viktor checked the time in Detroit in his World Clocks app; it was 3:47 in the morning.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Goodnight, Yuu-tan_

_Get some rest if you can_

_ <3 _

 

He locked his phone and put it back on the table. He went to the bathroom. With slow, circular motions, he brushed his teeth. He spat the foam, then brushed again. Spat, brushed. When he realized that there was no foam left in his mouth, he rinsed the bristles and gargled a handful of water. Spat, gargled, spat. He needed to shave, but he could do that tomorrow. Today was his rest day; he wasn’t going anywhere or seeing anyone.

Makkachin was on the couch, stretched out and asleep, lightly kicking at the air. Viktor walked around the sleeping dog and back into the kitchen, opened the fridge again. The only things inside were leftover takeout containers, none even half full, and an open liter of milk. He drank the milk from the box, tossed the empty cardboard and foil contraption into the recycling bin under the sink. None of the leftovers screamed breakfast, but he looked them over just the same. Unable to decide, he floated back toward the living room, where Makkachin still lay on the couch, still chasing a dreamed-up prey. Viktor smiled and left her alone.

In his room, he lay down on the bed and sighed. He checked his phone.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Sleep would be so much easier if I could stop throwing up_

_But no_

_Forget me and my esophagus._

_I’m not even sick!_

_fml this is never going to end_

 

Viktor sat up, alarmed. He called Yuuri, but it went to voicemail.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Sorry, Phichit is asleep and if I talk on the phone, it might wake him up._

_I don’t want him dragging me to the ER for nothing_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_If you’re throwing up, it’s not nothing!_

_Did you eat something funny?_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Nah, it’s just symptoms/side effects/something_

_I don’t even have a temperature._

_Been nauseous for a few hours now_

_Woke up around 1:30?_

_“woke up” because I went to bed at midnight and spent an hour fixated on every single time I’ve ever failed a jump in competition_

_Then spent 15 minutes trying to break out of it_

_Then spent 15 minutes lightly dozing before I suddenly felt like I needed to puke_

 

Viktor slid back into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chest and rolled on to his side, tucking his knees into fetal position.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I wish I could fix it for you_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Not your fault I’m adjusting to new meds while still in withdrawal from old meds_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Still wish I could be there_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_…_

_…_

_You going to hold my hair back for me, Nikiforov? :P_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Well, if you let it grow out, I would_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_I doubt that I would look good with long hair._

_You pulled it off_

_I would just look like I’d walked out of Edo on the Tokaido road_

_Topknots galore_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_OMG do you have pictures of you in traditional style clothing??_

_Can I see? Can I see??_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_I may die of embarrassment_

_If I do, there’s a nice Inari shrine in Hasetsu_

_There’s a waterfall and everything_

_Bury me there_

_{image attached}_

 

Viktor opened the picture, looked at a clearly younger Yuuri—still had the same blue-framed glasses—surrounded by people that Viktor fought and failed to identify. Each one was wearing a yukata, the garments delicately folded and tied, smiles bright on their faces. Even in the picture, Viktor could see that Yuuri was forcing himself to smile and relax into the group, as if he didn’t belong. Despite that, it was a good picture of him. Viktor smiled and held the phone to his chest for a moment before messaging him back.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I don’t think I recognize anyone else in this photo but you_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_They’re from my class in high school_

_We did a big group project together_

_I’m not really in touch with any of them anymore :/_

 

Viktor rolled so that he lay on his other side.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I didn’t get to go to a regular high school_

_Too busy becoming Viktor Nikiforov_ _TM_

_Was it fun?_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Ha. Fun._

_Mix severe anxiety and very gay in a blender_

_And my only close friends graduated a year or two before me…_

_Nishigori had a good time in high school_

_So did Yuuko_

_Too good of a time lol they ended up with triplets haha_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I’d like to meet your friends someday_

 

Yuuri didn’t reply. Viktor stared at the phone, watched—he hadn’t read it yet, right? He couldn’t remember if Yuuri’s read receipts were turned on or not; they texted so frequently when they did, that there was never time to notice. A minute passed, then five, then ten. Viktor turned over in his bed again, then rolled to his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows. He watched the YouTube video that Yuuri had made. In terms of a competitive-level program, there were only a couple of moments that would need to be smoothed out; for an exhibition, it was perfect. It showed off Yuuri’s assets as a skater, and that beautiful quad Salchow was proof that he deserved his reputation as Japan’s Ace. He watched the video again.

He watched his own video, the relaxed and inviting chords of “Ya Sudahlah” surrounding him again, echoing in a way that he wasn’t used to, the sound of his blades on the ice overlapping with the music. There were no jumps in this video, and he was okay with that. Scrolling through the comments, the majority of people didn’t even notice or generally approved; only a small minority complained that it just wasn’t Viktor Nikiforov if it didn’t have a quad flip.

Viktor closed YouTube and flipped onto his back. He held his phone over his head and opened his music app, set the same song to play on repeat. He locked the screen and laid the phone on his chest, speaker pointed toward his face. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, Makkachin was in the bed with him and his phone was dead. The sky outside his window was a hazy grey, preparing itself for the setting of the winter sun. The forecast called for freezing rain in the evening, he remembered. Was it already evening? He reached for the cord on the end table and plugged his phone in, waited until it was at seven percent battery before turning it on. After it started up and stabilized its connection to the network, his phone buzzed a handful of times with missed text messages and calls.

He cleared the notifications without looking at them and checked the time. It was 4:30 in the afternoon. His stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. There was a sour taste in his mouth, so he got up and brushed his teeth. Spit, brush, gargle, spit.

In the fridge, he eyed the takeout containers and decided to leave them when he realized that at least one of the plastic boxes contained food which had gone bad, a thin layer of green mold engulfing the corner of the inside. He found a box of tea bags, steeped one in boiling water, drank the scalded tea hot with no sugar. He stretched, looked at Makkachin flopped onto the linoleum floor near her food dish. He shrugged his way across the kitchen, scooped out a perfectly measured amount of organic dog food into a stainless-steel dish.

A piece of kibble had fallen into the water dish at some point and grown bloated and soft. Viktor lifted the dish from the floor and poured the waterlogged piece of food down the sink. He washed the dish with hot water and a blue dish soap that he didn’t remember buying, but was running low. When it was clean, he switched the tap from hot to cold, waited for the water to cool, then filled the dish. He returned it to the floor, and Makkachin immediately began lapping it up, tongue folding into a backwards scoop to lift the water into her mouth.

Viktor lay on the couch and turned on the TV. It would be another few hours until the new episode of _Bednaya Katyushka,_ so he flipped channels aimlessly. A half an hour of a Russian reality show that he’d once turned down a part on, three episodes of an American show about pawn shops, a French wildlife documentary. Makkachin jumped onto his stomach, and he carefully rearranged her so that she wasn’t putting too much pressure on his bladder or kidneys. They watched _Bednaya Katyushka_ and debated whether or not Natalia Medvedeva could possibly have been the killer. Viktor firmly believed that the girl was innocent; Makkachin replied with an indecipherable bark. He turned the TV off.

In bed, he noticed his phone had finished charging and that he had received more messages. He sighed and flopped into bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes or go under the covers. Under the lamplight at his end table, Viktor began to work through his messages. Six emails from his different sponsors, two missed calls from Yakov—it was his _rest day_ , wasn’t it? He had texts from Georgi and Chris. He replied to them quickly, apologized for missing them while his phone was charging.

No new texts from Yuuri. He didn’t know what he’d done, but Yuuri had stopped replying to him. A small part of Viktor wanted to sob. He wanted to break down crying that he had been scorned the whole day. He opened the chat log and saw that Yuuri hadn’t seen his message about wanting to meet his friends someday. That small part of him was filled with indignation and anger, which he felt would be best expressed through dramatic tears. Tears would sway Yuuri into giving him more attention, wouldn’t they? Viktor never cried; surely such a rare occurrence would warrant being looked at, wouldn’t it?

Viktor didn’t cry; only a small part of him wanted that, after all. He sighed again, shuffled his body under the covers and pulled Makkachin to his chest. He cuddled the dog tightly, buried his face in her fur, pressed his ear to her shoulder blade. He lay like that for an hour, light on and eyes wide open, cheek rising and falling in time with Makkachin’s breathing. No new texts from Yuuri.

He didn’t know what had happened to his boyfriend. If he were a more anxious type, he’d be terribly worried, but he wasn’t anxious about anything. He wasn’t anything at all but _tired_. This was supposed to be his rest day, and he rested. His stomach growled, but he didn’t have the energy to move and go hunting in his kitchen for something that wasn’t there, and he didn’t care enough to call any of the delivery places saved in his contacts. Despite what his stomach was doing, Viktor didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. No new texts from Yuuri.

His arm began to fall asleep under the weight of his dog, and he pulled the limb free. He shook it in the air until the circulation began to return to normal, the numbness flowing away. Numb. He supposed he should be more upset that he hadn’t heard from Yuuri since his last text this morning, but mostly he felt numb.

He fell into sleep, a fickle and fitful sleep. His mind played through snatches of his childhood. The first time his mother beat him, the last time. The face of his father hovering in the background, rarely hitting himself but watching and ignoring the cries of his own child. Divorce papers served the day before his mother’s death, the broken glass of the gun cabinet. _If only you had never been born, Vitya._ Viktor twitched and tossed in his sleep, fighting off hands that had died years ago. The motion caused Makka to abandon the bed for the couch in the living room. He woke with a start to the ghost of the gunshot; it was past midnight and his phone was ringing.

 _Yuuri was calling_.

Viktor took a moment to still the rapid pace of his heart. “Yuuri!” He answered the call, voice heavy on his tongue with sleep. He wanted to brush his teeth. “Yuu-tan! What’s up?”

“Vitya—shit, I am so sorry. You’re asleep. I shouldn’t have…I should’ve checked the time, I’m so sorry. I’ll let you go back to sleep now, you can call me when you want. Sorry.”

He sat up in bed, practically screamed, “No, wait, don’t go! I missed you all day.”

“Y-you did?”

“Always do. You stopped texting…”

“Oh.” On the other end of the line, Yuuri hesitated. After a minute, he continued, “My, uh…I threw up on my phone. It was pretty disgusting. I had to go out and get a new one when the Apple store opened. They saved all of my pictures and contacts, but I lost all of my message history. I got the same model, so I could use my same case still, but I ordered a new one just like it and have this generic blue thing right now that only cost a couple bucks. Sorry. I should’ve asked Phichit-kun to text you for me.”

“No, no. It’s okay. It sounds like you had a rough day.”

“It could’ve been worse. I stopped throwing up after I ruined my phone, so that was good. Three whole hours of sleep. How was your day?”

Viktor lay back down, his free arm bent behind his head while he held the phone to his ear. “Not special. It was a rest day, so I just kind of lazed about with Makkachin.”

“Hmm, sounds like fun.”

“It was okay. Would’ve been better if you were here.”

“My day would’ve been better with you here, too.”

Viktor smiled. “Are you alone right now?”

He heard a click. “The door’s even locked.”

“In that case,” Viktor said, “what would you do with me if I were there?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak bahasa indonesia, and normally I am 100% against Google Translate, but I felt it was really important to me to include a YouTube comment chunk in the language. I tried to keep the phrasing as basic as possible in order to get at least a readable chunk of text. I have a small handful of friends from Indonesia, and I spent a few weeks there in 2010, so I have nothing but love for the country and the people (and by extension, the language, which has a few weird root connections to Portuguese, because the evils of colonialism happened)
> 
> If you're not from Indonesia and you ever end up in West Java, there's a restaurant chain called Bumbu Desa that is amazing (no idea if this is on other islands; I've only been to West Java).
> 
> UPDATE 9/20/17: With much thanks to OmTivi, who nerded out over Indonesia with me, the comments have been changed to read more naturally and less "translatedy", which--thank God, tbh.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Denrhea's birthday! In case you missed it, I updated twice today in honor of that!
> 
> *If you've gotten this far in the series, I shouldn't need to remind you about lacrosse guy's existence, but just in case... from here on out, for at least a while, lacrosse guy and what happened to Yuuri with him while he was drunk are going to play an increasing role. Tags say it: Past rape.
> 
> Rape is rape! It is awful! It happens to between 1 in 6 to 1 in 4 women, and about 1 in 33 men in the United States. https://www.rainn.org/ has resources if you need them!

**January 15, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Windsor, Canada**

Dr. Kyper looked over Yuuri’s chart with the results of today’s tests again. “Okay, great. Your thyroid looks great. Everything looks great. You’re definitely ready for the next adjustment. Tell me more about how you’ve been feeling.”

Yuuri sighed and leaned forward in his chair. “I was feeling great a few days ago, almost completely normal. Then I woke up nauseous one night and threw up a bunch, and I spent most of yesterday shut in my room with the lights off totally paranoid that Phichit was pissed off at me for saying I wasn’t sure about going to the GSA semester startup party, that he was so mad at me that if he saw me again, he was going to kick me out of the apartment. Which is ridiculous because it’s my name on the lease, but yesterday it felt like a real possibility. And I keep hearing things that sound like our neighbors arguing, or a fight in the next room, but when I asked Phichit, he said he couldn’t hear anything, so I think it’s an auditory hallucination. I feel like I’m going crazy, because that’s never happened to me before, but I know it’s a symptom of benzo withdrawal, so I keep telling myself I’m not going crazy and that it’s ableist to think that anyway, but I just feel so insane right now.”

Dr. Kyper nodded along with each statement. “You’re not going crazy, and yes, if you’re having auditory hallucinations, that could easily be part of the withdrawal. Are you still experiencing fits of tremors and waves of irritability?” Yuuri nodded in reply. She asked, “How about the panic attacks?”

Yuuri swallowed a lump of nerves before he said, “Some days aren’t so bad, but others…I thought I was getting better about them, but…why did it get better and then get worse again? Shouldn’t the new meds be helping that?”

“How about their intensity?” she asked while she wrote a note down.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri admitted after a pause. “It’s been so hard to keep track of everything. I guess…they’re not as bad as they were in December…but I don’t know. The tremors are mostly just the hands now, when they happen. At the beginning, it was my whole body.”

She nodded. “Okay. You’re doing great, Yuuri. I hope you know that. Going through withdrawal is hard, but you’ve been doing so great with managing your symptoms and talking me through it so that I can understand how best to help you. And your new meds—on a physical level, your body is responding fine, and you’re almost up to therapeutic doses right now. This coming week, you will be. Hopefully it will lessen the severity of some of your symptoms until you’re out of the woods, and get you to a good place shortly thereafter.”

Yuuri sighed. He looked up and his foot began tapping on the floor. “Am I going to be okay for Four Continents? I’m terrified I’m going to do something stupid that I can’t control.”

Dr. Kyper put her papers down and leaned forward. “If you feel that way, you should let your friends and your coach know. Let them help you through the rest of this so you can enjoy your next competition. I’ll be rooting for you there,” she said with a smile.

“Are you going to watch it on TV?”

“I might just,” she said. “I do watch your competitions sometimes. My daughter likes watching the ladies and the pairs, so we’ve even watched a few that you didn’t compete in for her favorites. Nobody knows that you’re my patient, of course.”

“Of course,” Yuuri nodded with a smile. He trusted Dr. Kyper with his case more than he’d ever trusted any prior psychiatrist or psychologist, and knowing that her daughter was becoming a fan of the sport made him happy.

They spent another half an hour talking through some of Yuuri’s problems and frustrations before their time was up. He thanked Dr. Kyper for working with him and checked out at the desk. In the parking lot, Francesca waited in her car and waved to him when he came from the building.

 

 

 

Francesca pulled through a Starbucks drive-thru, treated Yuuri to a mocha frappe before swinging back to his apartment. Yuuri thanked her for the drink and the ride before entering the building and climbing the stairs to the second floor landing. Phichit was inside, a hamster on each shoulder and one on the back of his neck, bent over a textbook at the kitchen table.

Phichit noticed him and looked up, which caused the neck-hamster to fall into Phichit’s shirt. “Ah! Yuuri, help me!” He jumped in his seat and placed securing hands over the other two hamsters. “You need to save Mongo! Ow…before he scratches me to death.”

Yuuri rushed to his friend, shoved his arm down Phichit’s shirt and grabbed the scrabbling hamster. “Mongo is on your right shoulder,” he said. He pulled the offending rodent up through the neck of the shirt. “This one is Frau Blücher.” After a quick pat on its head, he placed the hamster on top of Phichit’s textbook.

Phichit bent his head and tried to catch the rodent’s eyes. “Frau. Darling. When did you trade places with Mongo?” He put the other two hamsters on the table and stretched. “Yuuri, I am dying in this J-term class. Put me out of my misery, _please_. I can’t take one more day of it.”

“You have one week left. You can do it. Think of all that science you learned. Science is good.”

“Why is your major psychology again and not a science?”

“Psychology is a science.”

“Yeah, but it’s a soft science.”

“Not everything can be hard all of the time, Phichit-kun.  I know as a technical teenager, this probably seems farfetched, but trust me on it.”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “I guess me and my virginal self will defer to your sex-laden expertise, then.”

Yuuri walked toward the fridge, kept his face away from Phichit’s all-knowing eyes. He could hear himself asking Viktor _is it really sex if you don’t remember it half the time?_ He could hear Viktor, _that guy belongs in jail_. “Well, you know, three parts alcohol and one part low self-esteem can get you anywhere.” He opened the fridge door.

“You shouldn’t have such low self-esteem about it; I hear you’re the best at sucking cock.”

“I’m not sucking yours.” He pulled an orange Gatorade from the door and twisted the cap. When the seal broke, he took a sip.

“Please don’t. But seriously—and it’s not like I’m following your sex life or anything like a horny virgin, because there’s definitely no way I’m a horny, nineteen-year-old virgin—everyone I’ve ever talked to who’s fooled around with you said you’re the best. Everyone. Even Jase Long.”

Yuuri swallowed the Gatorade in his mouth and took another sip. “I never did anything with Jase Long.”

Phichit grew quiet. He placed Mongo on the top of his head. “Are you serious? He said it was the best head he’d ever had and he was heartbroken for like a month when you gave him the cold shoulder the next time he saw you.”

_Just a blowjob_. Drunk Yuuri was known to give blowjobs. Drunk Yuuri had no inhibitions. Yuuri wasn’t bothered by this. This was to be expected. This was why he got tested for STDs after he stopped drinking, not that anyone else knew that. This was okay. This wasn’t a problem. “Well, sorry Jase Long, but I definitely don’t remember that. What?”

“Nothing. I guess he might have been lying about it…pretty dumb thing to lie about, but whatever. Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”

Yuuri chugged half of the bottle of Gatorade. “Totally fine,” he said. “Just dehydrated. Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

“No, it’s nothing. I just…never mind. I don’t understand why someone would lie about fooling around with someone else, but if you say you didn’t, then I believe you is all. I’m just confused.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Yuuri said. He fought through his memories. Viktor’s voice again, almost as if he were in the room, _that guy should be in jail_. Yuuri didn’t care if he’d given Jase Long a blowjob that couldn’t remember. But there were others…Phichit didn’t need to know the extent of it all, of Yuuri’s drunk indiscretions and blackout actions, his memory loss. Phichit didn’t get blackout drunk like he did. Phichit made better decisions every time. After all, those missing nights and random beds were entirely his fault for drinking too much, for drinking on anxiety meds and antidepressants when he knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t a victim so much as a hurricane. He felt bad for the guys like Jase Long who must have thought Drunk Yuuri was perfectly capable of making decisions without realizing how drunk he was. He knew Jase, knew that if the other man knew that Yuuri couldn’t remember giving him a blowjob, he’d tear himself up with guilt. It definitely wasn’t Jase’s fault that Drunk Yuuri was a disaster slut. Drunk Yuuri was a disaster slut, that’s all there was to it. Nobody’s fault but his own.

Phichit scoffed at him. “Says the king of worrying too much. Do you want me to kick his ass for saying things that aren’t true?”

“No, please do not. Just. Leave it. I…I have a boyfriend now, so none of it matters, right? Doesn’t matter who I did or didn’t ever have sex with, right? It’s not like I have any STDs or anything.” Just then, Yuuri’s phone buzzed with a notification. “See? Boyfriend. Past unimportant.”

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_Georgi showed up at my apartment with a bottle of vodka and two liters of ice cream_

_I guess he and Anya had a fight_

_I was asleep, but I am trying to be a good friend_

_I’ve never had friends before_

_I don’t know how to do this_

_You have friends!_

_What do I do??_

 

Yuuri didn’t know how to help Viktor; he didn’t have many friends himself, and the ones he did have were all at least a little bit upset with him still about shutting everyone out during the fall semester. He sat at the table and asked Phichit, “What would you do if Lev and Ketty got in a fight and Lev showed up here in the middle of the night with alcohol and ice cream to drown his sorrows?”

Phichit picked up the third hamster and passed it to Yuuri. “You should hold Blinkin for a while. Lev is lactose intolerant. Change the food.”

Yuuri put the hamster onto his shoulder. “Ugh, fine. If he showed up with a quart of orange chicken from the China Star?”

“Why the China Star, Yuuri? Why not Wok ‘N Roll? And why not sesame chicken? Do you even know Lev Cohen? Come on.”

“Missing the point, Phichit. What would you do?”

“I’d probably put on a movie and let him complain for a while, give him a hamster for warmth while we talked, then tell him to go to bed. Why?”

Yuuri turned his phone to show Phichit the texts from Viktor. Phichit began giggling. “There is a heart by his name in your contacts, Yuuri. You are so far gone. And what does he mean he doesn’t have friends? I gave him a shovel talk and he passed. Makes him a friend.”

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_You have friends!_

_I am your friend! It’s 70% of “boyfriend,” after all…_

_So is Chris!_

_*Your friend, not a boyfriend…_

_And Phichit says that he is your friend, so don’t forget him_

_He’s scary when he’s mad_ (`･/д＼･)

_That’s so sad for Georgi, though. I hope they work it out_

_Georgi seems cool. I don’t know him very well :/_

_Way to buck the stereotype with the ice cream thing_

_People think it’s only girls who do that._

_What flavor?_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_Mulled wine_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Mmm that sounds so good_

_I wish I was eating mulled wine ice cream_

_Just listen to him_

_You can do that_

_You are great at listening to me_

 

Yuuri locked his screen and put his phone on the table. He stretched his arms behind his head. “So, I told him to just listen. That’s right, right? That’s what we’d do? I don’t know. But get this. Mulled wine ice cream.”

“That is exactly something you would like. Does it have any alcohol content, or is it just the flavor?” Phichit smiled and tapped Frau Blücher’s nose.

“Probably just the flavor, I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Should I have? Either way, it sounds like it would taste good.”

The two fell into silence when Yuuri’s phone buzzed again.

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_Yes, but half the time listening to you ends with me cumming all over my hand :P_

_I wish you were here too_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Well, you will not be cumming all over your hand while Georgi is there_

_But if you want_

_After he leaves…_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_You are making this harder_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_I always make you harder ;)_

_Is that a yes?_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_If Georgi ever leaves._

_I hope they patch things up soon_

_Can I Skype with you later?_

 

Yuuri shifted in his seat, glanced from Phichit to his bedroom door to his phone. Phichit smirked at him with a glint in his eyes. “Whatever he just said really did it to you, huh. Do you need to go be alone?”

“Shut up,” Yuuri said. “I can wait until he’s actually ready, you know. I have _stamina_.”

“This whole situation is pretty hilarious, Yuuri. How long have you been pining after Impossible Nikiforov only to find out that he is just as socially awkward as you? I am actually living for this. It’s like romcom levels of hilariousness. It makes me believe in true love.”

“We’ve been dating for like three weeks, slow down.”

“You have a heart in his contact name, Yuuri. That is true love right there.”

“Shut up.”

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Take care of your friend first_

_I…would not be opposed to trying that…_

_Text me when he’s gone and I will be available within a few minutes_

 

The two friends spent the next half hour helping Phichit study, occasionally switching hamsters around or pulling them out of each other’s hair. When Phichit decided he’d finally had enough, he slammed the book shut and pushed it into the center of the table. He collected the hamsters and returned them to their cage, then flopped onto the couch in the living room.

Yuuri followed Phichit to the couch and collapsed next to him. “It’s your turn to make dinner,” he said.

“No fair,” Phichit groaned. “I did all that work today. So much work. I’m exhausted, can’t possibly move. I might even die, Yuuri. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m serious. I may be dead from overexertion by morning. Who ever heard of doing a four-credit science course in three weeks? Who the hell decided it was a good idea?”

“You signed up for it so you could get it over with.”

“But who designed the course, Yuuri? Why would they do this?”

“They do it to bleed money from poor international students like you.”

“Will you cook for me? My troubled soul needs nourishment.”

“If by ‘cook,’ you actually mean ‘hand me my phone so I can call China Star,’ then yeah, I can do that. I’m not calling, though.” He picked up Phichit’s phone from the floor and tossed it to him. Phichit placed an order for their usual picks and made a face at Yuuri.

Yuuri turned on his PS4 and loaded a game. He played mindlessly while Phichit shouted at his character. When their food arrived forty-five minutes later, Phichit answered the door. He brought the brown paper bag into the living room and dropped it in front of Yuuri, whose character died while Phichit was in his line of vision. “Fuck you,” Yuuri said as he waited for the game to reset to his save point. Phichit went into the kitchen and came back with two pairs of chopsticks and Yuuri’s unfinished orange Gatorade. Yuuri worked through about five more minutes of gameplay before he died again. He closed out of the game and opened his food.

He was halfway through moving a bite from the plastic container to his mouth when the food fell from his sticks back into the box. He dropped his chopsticks from his right hand, and they bounced on the plastic edges to fall to the floor. One rolled under the couch. With his left hand, he moved the food from his lap to the empty middle seat of the sofa. His fingers burned with each shake of the tremors, and he grabbed his right wrist with his left hand to hold it down.

Phichit put his food down, bent to pick up Yuuri’s chopsticks from the floor. He took them to the kitchen and returned with a clean pair. “Can I help?” he asked.

“You’re not going to feed me, if that’s what you mean. It’ll stop. Probably. It’ll probably stop.” Yuuri’s phone buzzed. “Can you check that for me?”

Phichit reached for the phone and opened the messages before blushing a bright saffron red. “Okay, um, wow. I didn’t…Yuuri, you lucky. You _very_ lucky.” He turned the phone to show Yuuri what he’d received.

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_{image attached}_

_Finally alone…_

_Skype in a few?_

 

“Fuck,” Yuuri groaned. “Sorry, Phichit. I didn’t know that was coming.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit grinned, “did _the_ Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov just send you an unsolicited dick pic?”

Yuuri tried to whack him with his trembling hand while still holding his own wrist, causing Phichit to erupt into laughter. He got up from the couch and held the phone away from Yuuri. “What should I say to him, huh? Should I demand payments for defiling your phone, Yuuri-chan?”

“Fuck you, Phichit. Gimme my phone.” He jumped up, still holding his wrist. Phichit began to run away, and Yuuri chased him.

 

 

 

Phichit started taking selfies with Yuuri three steps behind. He got to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning against it to keep Yuuri out. He sent the best two to Viktor.

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_{image attached}_

_{image attached}_

_Did you send my precious child an unsolicited dick pic, sir?_

_I demand the dowry now._

_since I had to see that picture you sent him, you are both my bitches now for the rest of your lives ~~ Phichit_

 

He jumped a little when Yuuri’s phone immediately buzzed with a reply.

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_Unsolicited? I would never!_

_I would never ever do anything without 100% consent_

_Nothing he’d be uncomfortable with._

_Nothing he’d forget about in the morning._

_Nothing he’d say no to while sober._

_Nothing._

_CONSENT IS EVERYTHING, CHULANONT_

_That being said…Phichit, please give Yuuri the phone_

_Please_

_I am desperate_

 

Yuuri was banging on the bathroom door, and Phichit knew he only had another minute before this would stop being funny for them both and start to trigger Yuuri’s anxiety.

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Okay fine he can have it back, but just be forewarned he was kind of shaking, so you might want to put on some pants for a while ;)_

 

He moved from the door, opened it, and handed Yuuri the phone. “Here, your boyfriend is horny. Do something about that.”

Yuuri took the phone with his left hand and stuffed it in his pocket, face flooding with relief. His right hand was still shaking. “Fuck you, Phichit. Fuck you.”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Go fuck your boyfriend.”

Yuuri flipped him off and disappeared down the hall. After a couple of seconds, Phichit heard the lock of the bedroom door bolting into place. Phichit went back into the living room and began to clean up their food. He hadn’t finished eating, but after seeing Viktor’s texts, he lost his appetite. _Drunk Yuuri remembers shit._ He’d said that himself so many times. _Nothing he’d forget in the morning. Jase Long. Beautiful disaster slut._

He’d been a terrible friend to Yuuri. Phichit shivered and swallowed, closed the fridge on their leftovers, buried himself under blankets in his room. Guilt flared up in his chest, flared out his nostrils as he squeezed onto a giant hamster plush that Yuuri had thrown to him at his first senior level competition two years before. Yuuri was his best friend. Yuuri deserved so much better. Phichit vowed to himself that he would be better for Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have been meaning to make a note that this past week has been National Suicide Prevention Week in the US, which started on World Suicide Prevention Day (the 10th). The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is 1-800-273-8255, and they also have an online chat if phones are not your thing! If you need someone and it seems like no one is there, give them a call.
> 
> I also want to say a huge general thank you to all of the people who have been commenting with their own stories of depression and anxiety. Talking about these issues carries such stigma, and even if it's with the anonymity of AO3, it still takes guts to admit that you're struggling. This evening, I got very low and anxious (6.8/10 thereabouts?), but when I checked my comments here, people were telling me how relatable my work is, how they really appreciate it, how it's helped them decide to get help, and it honestly has been helping me to calm back down and keep myself together. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!! You have no idea how much it means to me!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so suicide attempts. They happen sometimes. Be forewarned.

**January 17, 2016, Early Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Yuri Plisetsky smashed angry thumbs onto his screen, scowl set on his face like plaster. He was stretching alongside the rink, legs fallen into a perfect split, but he couldn’t care less about the muscle groups loosening along the line of his body. Someone was  _ wrong _ on the internet. Two feet away, a phone buzzed from within the pile of phones. Yuri scoffed. He knew everyone’s passcodes to get into their phones, so he could go mute it completely if it bothered him. The buzzing continued.

Yuri pulled out of the split and stalked over to the pile of phones. Viktor’s was the offender, which was still a little odd for Yuri; until the past few weeks, no one ever called or texted Viktor. He unlocked the phone; all he was going to do was mute it. But the incoming texts caught his eye, and curiosity overtook him. He opened the chat with “Yuu-tan.”

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ So I’m in the ER _

_ I think I’m going insane _

_ I keep thinking it would’ve been better if you’d just let me jump off that roof _

_ There’s a big, black spot in my memory and I wasn’t even drinking _

_ I don’t know what happened _

_ There was blood _

_ Phichit’s freaking out still _

_ He called a hotline; they sent an ambulance _

_ I told them no, but it came anyway and there was a cop _

_ I legit thought he was gonna shoot me _

_ Suicide by cop, no. _

_ If I’m gonna kill myself, I’m gonna do it the fucking right way. _

_ Like I apparently tried to do when I blacked out _

_ Anyway, I think I’m getting committed _

_ Shit fuck you’re at practice _

_ SORRY _

_ SORRY SORRY SORRY _

_ And you’re leaving me on read??? _

_ Fuck _

_ This is all my fault _

_ I shouldn’t have texted you _

_ I should have known you were busy _

_ I’m so sorry _

_ I’ll just shut up now _

_ Forget this _

_ It’s…I’ll be fine, so it’s not a big deal _

_ Sorry again _

_ sorry _

 

Yuri didn’t know what to do. He looked around, didn’t see Viktor on the ice. He hadn’t seen Viktor in a while. Yuri started walking toward the dance studio, thinking he might be there, but he didn’t know, so he decided to text back to Viktor’s friend, whom he assumed was Yuuri Katsuki. The nickname didn’t make any sense to him; must be a Japanese thing.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ This is Yuri Plisetsky; I have Viktor’s phone _

_ We leave our phones in the same spot during practice _

_ I noticed it was going off; I’m looking for him now _

 

The dance studio was empty. He changed course to the weight room, found Georgi doing pull-ups. “Oi, you seen Viktor? His friend is freaking out.”

“He just went to the bathroom a minute ago.”

“Fucking of course,” he muttered under his breath. The nearest bathroom was back by the main entrance.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Yurio! He’s not ignoring me _

_ Thank god he’s not ignoring me _

_ I thought I made him mad by being so fucking crazy and that he was just going to stop talking to me forever and not even tell me, which I mean, he’s allowed to do that and it would probably make more sense than reality _

_ I’m scared, Yurio _

_ I need him _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Who the fuck is Yurio? _

 

Yuri looked up from Viktor’s phone and finally saw the silver-haired asshole leaving the bathroom. “Oi, Viktor, your boyfriend is freaking out or something.”

Viktor froze for a moment, then jogged the distance between them and took the phone. He scrolled through the texts that Yuri had been exchanging, then pressed the call button. He leveled a stare at the young teen. “Don’t use that word,” he said. Yuri wasn’t sure what word he’d used that would warrant being scolded, so he just shrugged and rolled his eyes. He turned away from Viktor, barely heard him say into the phone, “Hey, I’m right here, talk to me.”

When Viktor didn’t return to practice for the rest of the day, Yuri wasn’t surprised.

 

 

 

**January 18, 2016, Early Afternoon – St. Petersburg, Russia**

When Yuri was finally done with practice, he packed up his gym bag, dropped it off at his dorm and caught the bus to Viktor’s flat. Could he have walked it? Sure. But his legs were sore and he was tired, so he wanted to ride the bus. The bus was climate-controlled, not like the freezing exterior world. Days like this one, even the inside of the rink was warmer than the weather outside. He took the bus.

Viktor hadn’t shown at practice, and with only ten days till Europeans, Yuri was surprised that Yakov hadn’t totally combusted. At the front door, he pressed the call button for Viktor’s flat. Yuri had only been here twice before, with the other, older skaters. The first time, he’d only been eleven years old and he was so excited to be  _ inside of Viktor Nikiforov’s apartment _ that he’d spilled his juice all over the living room carpet. The second time had been at the beginning of this season, and he’d taken extra care to drink only water in case of a second spill.

“ _ Privet? _ ” Viktor’s voice came through the speaker at the door.

“Viktor, it’s me, let me up.”

“Yuri? What are you— _ da _ , come in. It’s cold outside.” The door buzzed.

Inside, Yuri wavered under the eyes of the doorman, went straight for the elevator. He punched the button for Viktor’s floor, rode the car to the landing. When he got to the door, he pounded it with his fist until Viktor opened it. He pushed past him, pushed Makkachin down when she jumped on him.

“What the fuck happened to Katsuki?” he asked when the door closed. Viktor sighed. He slipped his fingers into his hair and grabbed at the locks. He hadn’t shaved that morning and was wearing old sweats that Yuri took to be pajamas—he could see that Viktor was stressed. He went into the kitchen and opened empty drawers and empty cabinets. He opened the fridge and saw nothing but half-eaten takeout and a nearly-empty bottle of vodka. “Where’s your tea, idiot?”

“Yuri, why are you here?”

“Why the fuck do you think? Sorry I read your texts, but at least I saw them and got your phone to you. Now I want to know what happened after you disappeared. And why don’t you have any food, Viktor?”

“There’s ice cream in the freezer, if you want some.”

Yuri opened the freezer. “Mulled wine? This is Georgi’s flavor. It’s also nasty. Tea, Viktor. You look like you’re going to lose it. Drink a fucking cup of tea and chill out and tell me what’s going on.”

Viktor entered the kitchen and pulled a box of tea bags from the cabinet above the fridge, the only one that Yuri couldn’t reach. He handed the box to Yuri, who gave up looking for a kettle quickly and settled for a small saucepan to heat the water. Viktor pulled two mugs from the same high cabinet.

Yuri made the tea and pushed a mug into Viktor’s hand. He dragged the older man to his living room, sat on his couch and pointed at the other seat. Viktor fell into the couch without ceremony, placed the tea on the coffee table.

“Drink the tea, geezer.”

Viktor drank the tea. “This is much better than when I do it.”

“You probably scald the fucking leaves. I’m sick of being out of the loop of things, so what the fuck is going on?”

“It…it’s complicated. Yuuri’s in the hospital again, but he shouldn’t be there for too long this time. He signed for three days.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s just what happens when you try to kill yourself.”

“I don’t understand,” Yuri said. “I get that he has depression or whatever, but why would anyone want to kill themselves?”

“Well,” Viktor snapped, “that’s great for you that you don’t get it.”

“Shit, Viktor, what has gotten into you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, softening. He took a sip of tea. “You’re still a kid; it really is better that you don’t understand.”

“Like you do,” Yuri said with a roll of his eyes. When Viktor didn’t reply, Yuri put his mug down. “Holy fuck, Viktor, I swear if you tell me you’re fucking suicidal I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I’m an adult, Yuri. I’m not going to throw my problems on a fourteen-year-old who already has too much on his plate with his own life and family. I gave you an update on Yuuri, so if you want to sit here and psychoanalyze me now, then you can go back to the dorms and leave me alone with Makkachin.”

“Why are you being so rude?”

“How do you expect me to be? Perfect? Plastic? Do you want a camera-ready smile? I’m not happy right now, Yuri, and I don’t have the energy to pretend to be. I’m—my—Yuuri is in the  _ hospital _ on the other side of the  _ world _ , and there’s nothing I can do.”

Yuri drank the rest of his tea quickly. “Give me your wallet.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘give me your wallet.’”

“Petty theft doesn’t look good on you.”

“Fuck you. When was the last time you went to a fucking grocery store?”

“Probably before you were born. Why?”

“Give me your fucking wallet, because I am not paying for your fucking groceries. I’ll be back in two hours with real fucking ice cream and  _ food _ .”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine, and I don’t need you to do my grocery shopping for me.”

“Were you raised by barbarians or something?”

“You could say that.”

“Wallet. Now.”

“It’s in my coat pocket by the door. Do whatever you want with it. There’s a daily cap on the card of about 350.000 rubles. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Yuri got up from the couch and pulled the wallet from the pocket. “I’m spending it on fucking groceries that you, as an adult, should know how to purchase.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Tell that to your real mom.”

“I would, but she’s dead.”

Yuri paused; he didn’t know that. He’d never seen Viktor like this, and it was beginning to scare him. He didn’t know why, but he felt like the older man shouldn’t be left alone. “Whatever. I’ll be back in two hours. Go shave or something. And don’t fucking kill yourself.” He slammed the door to Viktor’s apartment and got in the elevator. When the door slid closed in front of him, he pulled out his phone and sent a text to Yakov.

 

_ To Feltsman, Yakov: _

_ Something is wrong with Viktor _

 

 

 

**January 19, 2016, Late Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri fell into his bed with a deep sigh, then groaned when he rolled over and hit his injured arm. “Fuck.”

Phichit stood in the doorway to Yuuri’s room, body tense. “Can I help?” he asked.

“I hate this, Phichit. I hate everything about this.”

“I hate it, too.”

“You should hate me. Why don’t you hate me?”

Phichit took a few tentative steps toward the bed and sat along the edge near Yuuri’s feet, careful not to come into physical contact with his friend. “We’ve been over this before, Yuuri. I can’t hate you. You’re my best friend. Which is why this stuff is getting really hard to deal with, because it’s attacking you, and you’re my best friend. I’m scared for you, but I don’t hate you.”

Yuuri buried his face into his pillow. “I don’t remember doing this to myself.”

“I know.” Phichit placed a single hand on Yuuri’s leg.

Yuuri twisted and sat up, close to Phichit. He dropped his head onto his friend’s shoulder. “They added on an antipsychotic.”

“You told me.”

“Three weeks before it’s fully effective.”

“That sounds miserable.”

Yuuri was crying slowly, the tears running into Phichit’s shirt. “I shouldn’t even need it. All of this is just fucking  _ benzo _ withdrawal. I don’t have a history of psychosis before the past month. I’m not bipolar. I don’t need an antipsychotic that’s only going to start taking effect when I’m supposed to be in the last week of withdrawal, which is what’s causing the psychosis.”

Phichit wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s waist. “You tried to stab yourself.”

“I know.”

“When I tried to stop you, you slit open your arm.”

“I know.”

“Take the antipsychotic.”

Yuuri sighed. “I will. I always take what I’m prescribed, and I always take the right amount. Except when it falls into the fucking couch while I’m packing for Russia. I’m so tired of this, Phichit. I just want to be normal. Why can’t I be normal?”

“I don’t know, Yuuri. I don’t understand any of this on any type of technical level. You’re the psychology major who is writing a thesis on suicide in gay young adults.”

“Why the fuck am I trying to be my own case study? It’s not like I even want to die half the time. Like right now, I’m mortified by what happened, but I don’t want to kill myself.”

“That’s good. That’s progress.”

Yuuri grew quiet and whispered, “I wouldn’t mind just putting everything on pause for a while, though. If I could just sleep through the next month until my mind stops freaking out so much. I don’t want to kill myself because of benzo withdrawal. I don’t. I just want to function normally. If I have to be aided by heavy antidepressants because I can’t handle another benzo, that’s fine. I just want this all to end so I can get back to my life.”

Phichit tightened his arm into a hug. “It’ll get better, Yuuri. I promise. You’ll get through this, and you’ll kick ass at Four Continents, and you’ll share the podium with your boyfriend at Worlds, and then one day you’ll both retire and put on ice shows to emo music based on your YouTube channel and donate all the money to suicide prevention. You’ll be a gay power couple, and the strength of your love with eliminate homophobia worldwide.”

“The channel! Shit, I forgot about the channel. Phichit, I need you to help me do another video for the channel, and you can’t tell Ciao-Ciao, because I’m not allowed on the ice until after I see Dr. Kyper.”

“Ciao-Ciao will find out if you post a video.”

“Seek forgiveness?”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. Not today. Or tomorrow. Two days from now, and I will help you film a video for your channel. Does that work?”

Yuuri nodded and said, “Mmhmm. This girl in the hospital with me recommended a song. I still have to check out the actual song by the artist, but she sang it for me, so I think it should work.”

“Don’t overexert yourself between now and then, Yuuri. Classes start on the 25 th , too, don’t forget.”

“All I have left is the thesis. I should be able to finish by March.”

“That thesis where you’re your own case study?”

“You mean ‘Rates and Treatment of Mental Illness Among LGBT+ Youth and Young Adults in America and Japan: A Comparative Analysis.’ AKA the most self-indulgent piece of writing I have ever done. Also the most hypocritical.”

“Yeah, that one. You’re really graduating this term, aren’t you? I’m going to miss you so much, Yuuri!” He squeezed Yuuri’s torso tighter and shook him.

Yuuri patted Phichit on the back. “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re graduating and then you’re getting gay married to your childhood idol and you’ll have a mansion in Florida with half a dozen dogs. Don’t lie to me.” Phichit pouted at Yuuri, and for a moment, Yuuri found himself completely distracted by the younger man’s eyeliner.

He snapped himself out of his reverie and smiled. “Okay, one. Yes, graduating. Two. In this country, I believe the term is just ‘married,’ so there’s that. Three. No Florida. Four. We have been dating for a month. No one is talking about marriage yet, and definitely no mansions. Vitya may have lots of money, but he doesn’t spend it like an idiot, and my family is pretty firmly middle class. No mansions.”

“But Yuuri—” Phichit brought the back of his hand to his forehead and dramatically fell back onto the mattress, “what’s the point of marrying a sugar daddy if you don’t get a mansion out of it?”

Yuuri fell next to Phichit. “I’m not marrying a sugar daddy. I’m marrying my boyfriend. Maybe. Someday. If I ask him and he says yes. Do you think he’d say yes?”

“Pretty sure he’ll get impatient and ask you first. Have you talked to him yet?”

He flinched. “No, not yet. It—it’s already late where he is. I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably asleep. He probably doesn’t want to hear from me right now, anyway.”

Phichit turned himself onto his side and propped his chin in his hand. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Yuuri looked at the ceiling and at the wall where he still kept a single poster of Viktor hanging. “He’s just probably really disappointed in me, is all. I promised him I’d get better. And I just keep getting worse.”

“You’re not getting worse, Yuuri. Roundabouts are safer than four-way intersections, but they take longer to drive. This is just the far side of the roundabout. I have faith in you. And you should at least text him to let him know you’re out of the hospital.”

“Fine.” Yuuri sat up again and searched for his phone in his bag from the hospital. When he found it, he pulled up the chat with Viktor.

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Out of the hospital again _

_ I know I’m a disappointment _

_ sorry for this _

 

Yuuri didn’t expect a reply right away, but he barely managed to hit send on his third message before Viktor was replying.

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ NEVER A DISAPPOINTMENT _

_ NEVER BE SORRY FOR THIS _

_ I love you, Yuuri _

_ That’s all I care about _

_ That, and you’ve got people there who are looking out for you when I can’t _

_ That you’re getting the help you need _

_ You’re doing a LOT better than me _

_ I know I need help, and I can’t bring myself to go get it. _

_ Even if you’re having deeper setbacks, you’re still moving forward much faster _

_ I’m really proud of you _

_ and a little jealous tbh _

_ I wish I could be as strong as you _

_ SO DON’T BE SORRY FOR IT!!! _

_ YOU’RE NOT A DISAPPOINTMENT!!! _

_ I LOVE YOU!!!! _

 

Yuuri dropped his phone and it bounced on the ground. “Phichit—he—he…”

“What?” Phichit asked as he sat up. He reached for Yuuri’s fallen phone. “He didn’t say anything rude, did he?”

Yuuri didn’t reply, so Phichit looked at the stack of messages that Yuuri had just received. “Holy shit, he said he loves you.” The phone buzzed again in Phichit’s hand.

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ umm…I just realized I just said that I love you… _

_ which is true… _

_ I just don’t want you to think that I only said it to make you feel better _

_ Because it’s true _

_ I love you. _

_ …is it…too early to say that? _

_ I have never had a real boyfriend before. _

_ I have no idea. _

_ I just know that when I think about you, I feel…everything _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poll for wants! If you could see Viktor in Detroit with Yuuri/Phichit/Ketty et. al., WHAT WOULD THEY DO? How would Alex Garrison take it? What would you want to see?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked to some of my research...

**January 20, 2016, Midday – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor didn’t want to answer the door, didn’t want to move from his couch. He could hear Yakov pounding on the wood, rattling the frame. Makkachin whined and pawed at his arm. “Vitya, open this door,” Yakov yelled into his apartment, bellowing voice barely muted by the wall between them.

“Viktor, please let us in,” that voice was Georgi. How many of them were there? Viktor didn’t want to see any of them, especially not all at once. He groaned when the knocking increased. Makkachin barked.

He got up and went to the door, opened it enough to stick his head out, but not enough to let anyone in. “I have a headache, can you please stop making all this noise?” Yakov, Georgi, Yuri. Three people, more than he could deal with but not as bad as he expected.

Yuri pushed his way into the apartment, and the others followed. Yakov closed the door behind them. He pointed toward Viktor’s living room. “Now.”

Viktor sighed and followed, fell into his seat on the couch and pulled Makkachin into his lap. “I texted you this morning that I wasn’t feeling well. Can’t you just let me get over this now so that it doesn’t affect Europeans?”

Yakov stared at him with fury and compassion. “What happened in Sochi, Vitya?”

Viktor flinched and looked at Georgi, who looked just as shocked at the question as Viktor felt. Georgi wasn’t as good at keeping a straight face, so he believed the reaction was genuine and that he hadn’t betrayed his trust. He  _ hoped _ that Georgi hadn’t betrayed his trust. “I…”

“Wait, what does this have to do with Sochi?” Yuri interrupted. “Everything was totally normal in Sochi. Viktor’s acting like a five-year-old who doesn’t know how to grocery shop  _ right now _ .”

“Be quiet, Yuri,” Georgi said. “We’re here because we care about Viktor, not because we want to know everything like busybodies.”

Viktor kept looking between the three of them, and something in him snapped. He didn’t want them to treat him gingerly; he wanted them to go away. “I don’t know why any of you care so long as I bring in the golds and don’t have scandals. I’ve performed perfectly in public, haven’t I? I’m always smile-ready, aren’t I? Just leave me alone. I’ll be fine.”

Yakov sighed. “You don’t have to be perfect, Vitya. Tell me about what happened in Sochi. I know you were trying to talk about something serious a few weeks ago. When you stopped trying, I thought things had resolved themselves. I see now that they haven’t. So please, talk to me.”

Viktor held tighter to Makkachin. “You’ll be angry.”

“Did your father contact you?”

“No.”

“Any relatives at all?”

“No, they didn’t, and they never will. I was…Yuuri…we stopped  _ each other _ …I was going to jump, he was going to jump. We stopped each other.” Viktor braced himself for the anger, for the backlash he knew was coming. He closed his eyes, curled into his dog slightly. It had been fifteen years since his mother had tried to beat him to death, eight years since his father slapped him on the face and told him  _ no fag can be a son of mine _ , but his body reacted as if a day hadn’t gone by.

Yakov’s body relaxed, the tension of not knowing replaced with a calm acceptance of the worst. “This is my fault,” he said.

Viktor was still waiting for a blow that would never come, but he opened his eyes, cautious, and said, “How on earth is it your fault? I’m the one who messed up. You should be…why aren’t you angry?”

“Stop acting like I’m going to hit you, Vitya. I’m not angry at you. It’s my fault because I should have taken you out of that house when you were ten years old. I shouldn’t keep pushing you to play into the persona we created when I know full well that you’re never going to be that person. It’s dangerous to be the way you are, but that doesn’t mean you should ever get to the point where you’d rather kill yourself. For anything. I haven’t given you the freedom to be yourself, so this is my fault.”

Yuri, whose face showed that he couldn’t follow the conversation anymore, elbowed Georgi and whispered something, but Georgi just hushed him. Viktor tried to ignore them both, focus on Yakov. He shook his head. “No, no, no. You’ve kept me  _ safe _ . I…I probably would’ve tried to kill myself a long time ago if it weren’t for you, Yakov. You’ve…it’s not easy…you know that better than me. I shouldn’t complain. I can’t complain. I just…I can do better. I can. Yuuri’s helping. He’s…we’re working on things together…He’s…we’re both…it’s…I can do better. I promise. I just…please, don’t blame yourself. I’ll—I will get help, I promise. I can do better.”

Yakov sighed. He got up and walked to Viktor’s door, locked it, pulled the chain into place, set the emergency deadbolt. He came back into the living room and searched until he found a record player and a small collection of vinyl records stashed under the television. Viktor, Yuri and Georgi all watched Yakov move about, unsure of what was to come. Yakov plugged in the record player, set a record on the table and placed the needle. The second disc of Pink Floyd’s  _ The Wall _ began playing loudly. He returned to his chair and pulled it closer to Viktor, motioned for Georgi and Yuri to come closer as well. Under the sound of the record playing, he whispered, “Do not go to a doctor here, Vitya. You think it’s hard to be gay in Russia now. If you go to a hospital and speak of depression, suicide attempts—it is not safe to be in psychiatric care, especially not if you have a preference for the same sex.”

“Yakov—there’s—Yuri is fourteen,” Viktor whisper-screamed. “We can’t—”

“We must,” Yakov said. “The atmosphere today is too much  [ like fifty years ago ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_abuse_of_psychiatry_in_the_Soviet_Union) , and if you’ve reached the point of suicide—I can’t watch you suffer more, Vitya. I won’t have you do to yourself what that monster of a woman did to you when you were a child…It’s sometimes hard to get the news, to get the facts of what goes on in this country from within its borders. I have a friend, an ex-lover. He fled in the eighties, lives in France with a partner. He’ll send me screenshots, because half of the  [ news links ](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/act-four/wp/2016/02/09/how-censorship-works-in-vladimir-putins-russia/?utm_term=.e01fcbcacdce) will be  [ dead or blocked ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_censorship_in_Russia) when I try to open them here. The only thing that works reliably is  [ social media ](http://www.slate.com/articles/technology/future_tense/2017/04/russia_is_trying_to_copy_china_s_internet_censorship.html) , and you know how I feel about using that crap. What they did to us then, they will do to you if you seek professional help. It will be torture. And if you fight it for too long, they will drug you into a stupor.

“Before the fall of the USSR, the government used psychiatry to silence political and societal dissidents, to cure the disease of ‘social ills’ from the population. And this is happening again. Have you ever heard of the band  [ Pussy Riot ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pussy_Riot) ? No? Ask your friend Katsuki to  [ send ](https://www.usatoday.com/story/life/music/2017/08/07/two-members-of-russian-punk-band-pussy-riot-detained/104367502/) you  [ screenshots ](https://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/nov/15/pussy-riot-nadezhda-tolokonnikova-slavoj-zizek) . Delete them once you’ve read them. Vitya, they will try to convert you. They will use drugs, electric shocks, whatever they think it will take. They will blame your depression on perversion. They will harm you. Do not. Seek help. In Russia.”

The three skaters remained quiet while the music continued to play. Georgi was the one who broke the silence, asking, “Yakov, what happened to you?”

“I’ve already said more than enough for you to imagine.”

Viktor held tighter onto Makkachin. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “I can’t…what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Vitya,” Yakov said. “Come to practice. Talk with your friends. Tell me how you’re feeling. Hiding these things isn’t easy or fair, but we’ve done so well with the media and your sexuality so far. We can come up with a plan. We can take care of this and take care of you.”

“I don’t want to hide anymore, Yakov. I don’t want to be in the closet. I—I…I’m in love with Yuuri, and I want to be public about it.”

“Vitya—no. We need to be smart about this. I’m not going to tell you to stop speaking with him or to end your relationship; at this point, that would just make things worse. If you go public about it, though, if word gets out about your depression…you may well spend nine years  [ involuntarily committed ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Political_abuse_of_psychiatry_in_Russia) to a psychiatric prison, no matter how famous you are. I’m not exaggerating. This is what happened to my first lover, and he died there—a vegetable kept dumb by drugs. This almost happened to me. Without Lilia…without her help, I would have been trapped for much longer than I was. I may not have done things perfectly right for you, but all I ever wanted was to keep you safe from what happened to me and what happened to Lyosha. Please, Vitya, be smart about this so that you can retire and move out of the country and live with your lover the way you deserve. Be smart about this for now, so that you don’t spend decades married to someone you don’t love in order to save yourself.”

Viktor swallowed and nodded. Be smart. He could be smart. He could do this for Yuuri, so they could be together in the long run. Was it too soon to be thinking like this? They’d hardly spent any time together in person, but Viktor knew in his bones that Yuuri was it for him. He was in love, and he would be in love with Yuuri until he died. Even if Yuuri died first, even if Yuuri died tomorrow and Viktor lived another hundred years. Viktor could be smart for Yuuri. “Okay,” he said. “I can do this. I’m…I’m scared. Yakov, why do so many people hate me for wanting to be with Yuuri? I’m so used to accepting it, but I don’t understand. I thought I might if I ever tried to have a relationship, but I understand it even less now. Everything I feel for him—I’ve  _ never _ felt this way before. He…he makes the air easier to breathe, he keeps my senses flowing. Yakov, why do they hate me for it?”

He began to cry, loud and rattling tears that he couldn’t control as the record turned to the song “ [ Comfortably Numb ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FrOQC-zEog) .” Makka jumped down from the couch, finally made uncomfortable by Viktor’s tightening grip, and Georgi took her place in physical comfort by laying a hand on Viktor’s shoulder while he cried. By the time of the second guitar solo, the tears stopped flowing. At the end of the song, Viktor laughed. “I should do my next skate to this,” he said. “It’s really quite appropriate.”

 

 

 

 

 

**January 22, 2016, Afternoon – Windsor, Canada**

Yuuri opened the passenger door of Ketty’s car. “Hi,” he said. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I miss these car rides,” Ketty said. “I miss you. I still haven’t caught up on Yuuri-time, you know. Wanna get some gravy fries before we go back across the border?” She pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Yuuri fidgeted with his backpack on his lap. His arm was still in pain, but it was manageable and healing. “Actually, I was wondering…do you want to come to the rink? Phichit is supposed to meet me there; I’m filming a new video for my channel with Viktor. We were going to do it yesterday, but Ciao-Ciao caught us and told me that I could do it today after my appointment, if they think my arm will be okay. And Dr. Kyper said if I mark my jumps and am very careful, it should be okay. So we wanted to film today before I get back into serious practice with my real routines.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” she said. “ _ If _ —don’t make a face—if you tell me a little bit about what happened. Phichit told me from his end, but I want to hear it from you, Yuu-kun.”

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t exactly…remember it. The last thing I really remember clearly is jogging across campus. The next thing I know, I’m in the kitchen with a knife in my hand, and Phichit is holding my arm together and sobbing into a hotline on speakerphone.”

Ketty hummed. “That’s really scary, actually. I would be freaked if I had gaps in my memory when I did dangerous things.”

“Well, it’s not all that weird for me. It’s just this time I wasn’t drunk.”

“I really am so glad you quit drinking like that. Your ex was bad news and clearly taking advantage of you.”

“I know. You tried to warn me. To be fair, though, we never  _ really _ dated,” Yuuri said. “He just kind of…well, I’m not really sure what all we did, but there were definitely no  _ dates _ . Just fucking…and even that was just  _ weird _ …I…I saw him that day. Like, across the quad while I was jogging.”

“Ouch. Did you tell Phichit?”

“Oh, god,  _ no _ . Vitya…he said that he thinks Pres belongs in jail. I don’t—Phichit already has to deal with so much, just living with me. I could never tell him like, ‘Oh, you know that guy that I was kind of sort of not exactly dating last year? Yeah, don’t really remember having sex with him half the time, just woke up in his bed a bunch with a sore ass after getting blackout drunk, and my boyfriend says that’s rape.’ Not gonna say that, no. Besides, it’s not like he’s the only person I ever fooled around with and then forgot about later. I just found out last week that apparently I blew Jase Long. No, Pres was a dick because he was  _ racist _ . I don’t care if we had sex that I don’t remember. I don’t. Phichit would turn it into a big, huge thing like Viktor did when I told him about it, when it really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Yuuri,” Ketty said, keeping her eyes on the road. “I hate what the world has done to you, and that you’re so down about yourself that you can’t see when someone else has hurt you because you think it’s just normal, even when it’s not. Your boyfriend is not wrong. Your ex—and I’m only calling him that because everyone assumed you were happy together and it’s convenient—your ex was an abusive asshole. You deserve better. Is that why you stopped going to GSA last semester?”

Yuuri didn’t respond, just turned to look out the window. Ketty let the silence fall, drove them back across the border and to the rink.

After she parked and they got out of the car, she pulled Yuuri into a hug. “I’m working on a surprise for you, by the way,” she said when she let him go. “I hope you’ll like it. I was going to keep it a secret completely, but I feel like you need some extra positivity right now, so just so you know—I have a gift for you coming up soon.”

Yuuri blushed and looked away, focused on the ground. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“I know! That’s why it’s a gift. Now, come on, I want to see this new routine of yours before the internet gets it.”

  
  


 

 

 

**January 22, 2016, Late Night – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Katsuki Yuuri, “** [ **Every Single Night** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIlLq4BqGdg) **”** }

{icon image: Yuuri alone on the ice wearing black workout pants and a dark green workout shirt, arm clearly bandaged}

79,618 Views

 

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published January 22, 2016

 

Video description:

Not allowed to jump for the next week, so I marked them where I think they should be. Hope you like it anyway. – Yuuri

...

If you or a friend need help and you live in the US, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. 1-800-273-8255. They are very helpful.

 

1,947 Comments

Add a public comment

 

**because you and me are meant to be** 1 hour ago What is up with his arm?

View all 306 replies

**Comma comma chameleon** 1 hour ago because you and me are meant to be it’s pretty obvious that he hurt himself. duh.

**Expecto Patronum!!!** 1 hour ago Comma comma chameleon I hope it was an accident; isn’t he pretty crazy?

 

**Spicy Myth** 45 minutes ago Oh my god what happened to his arm??? Is that why he can’t do jumps?? I hope he’s okay in time for 4CC because I am rooting for him so hardcore for that!!!

View all 299 replies

**GAAAAAAASTRONOMY** 40 minutes ago Spicy Myth I’m hoping for the best, too! Yuuri-kun is my favorite skater and has been since before all of this crap came out.

**Popeye The Sailor Chicken** 35 minutes ago Spicy Myth obviously whatever happened to his arm is why he can’t do jumps. The REAL question is what happened??? I am dying to know

 

**Detroit could use a makeover** 30 minutes ago So maybe I shouldn’t say this, but my bad habit is listening to police scanners. I like to write crime novels, so don’t shoot me. I have a dream. Anyway, there was this call that came through while I was listening last week about a Japanese man who tried to kill himself, and they directed the cop to the address, and it was near where I live, which is definitely the area where Yuuri-kun lives, since I have seen him and Phichit around a few times. I’m not a terrible stalker, I promise! I don’t even say hi, because I know that Yuuri-kun likes his privacy and if he knew he had fans living so close by, he’d probably move. I don’t have any proof that this person was Yuuri-kun, but it could have been. I hate to say it, but he also included the suicide hotline number, and if that’s not a major clue, then I don’t know what is. And the song? I’d never heard it before and I don’t have mental illness, but listening to it, I felt like I could understand how hard it must be to have so little control over your own brain. Yuuri-kun, I am with you in your recovery! GANBATTE!!!

View all 1903 replies

**Jake from Allstate, because fuck statefarm** 29 minutes ago Detroit could use a makeover WHY WOULD YOU POST THIS IT’S SO MUCH CONJECTURE. JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE NEIGHBORS DOESN’T GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO SHARE THIS INFORMATION. BESIDES, IT COULD’VE BEEN ANYONE NOT NECESSARILY YUURI. DID YOU SEE HIM GET IN THE AMBULANCE? NO. YOU CALL YOURSELF A FAN, THEN RESPECT HIS PRIVACY IF THAT WAS A CALL ABOUT HIM. FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING JACKASS

**Azinga Blinga Black Girl Magic** 10 minutes ago Detroit could use a makeover if this is true and it really was a call for Yuuri-kun, I am glad he is okay because fuck the police. If you’re mentally ill, especially if you’re a person of color (which, he ain’t black, but he sure ain’t white), getting the police involved is ALWAYS dangerous. Police in this country escalate violence and danger in these situations. If he’d been a black guy, Yuuri-kun would probably be dead. If he’d been white, he probably would’ve had a much easier time than he did have. He was probably scared for his life, and for the life of his very brown Thai friend.

**Sit spin on me** 2 minutes ago Detroit could use a makeover I really hope this isn’t true and you’re just trolling us and Yuuri-kun isn’t actually trying to hurt himself, because I love him he is a precious cinnamon roll and his bestie is a smol bean. I need them to be okay!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research into state censorship in Russia, so much that it became a topic that started showing up in those targeted ads that show up on social media. As far as I can tell, Yakov's response here is partially based on actual levels of censorship and a little bit paranoia. But to be honest, it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you. Homosexuality was decriminalized in the USSR in 1976; prior to that, it was classified as a danger to society, and gay people (along with political dissidents) were, in fact, locked into psychiatric prisons where they would be tortured and drugged into a vegetative state. While theoretically this practice has ended, there is sufficient evidence (will include in the next chapter) to believe that this is still ongoing (or having a resurgence).
> 
> Much thanks to the folks who recc'd "Comfortably Numb." I don't know if I'll end up having Viktor skate to it, but it really does fit him, so I wanted to be sure to include it somewhere.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter came straight from Wikipedia; I debated putting it in like this, but Den and Blu approved of it, so I'm trusting their instincts ;)
> 
> If you haven't checked out either of their stuff, you should! Denrhea just wrapped up her role-reversal light-mafia AU "All that Glitters is Not Gold" and BluSkates is still putting out a fabulous teacher AU called "Memories Are the Only Real Ghosts." If you're interested in reading YOI fics that deal with mental health issues, both of those writers are ones you should be reading!
> 
> Do the three of us have a group chat where we plot out all of our stories and geek out about the Tonya Harding movie coming out in December? Yes. Yes, we do.

**January 23, 2016, Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor took a long drink from his water before walking over to the pile of phones, balancing perfectly on his guards. He’d received a string of texts from Yuuri, and he smiled as he read each of them.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Dr. K says my arm is gonna be fine if I’m careful with it _

_ No jumps next 2 wks   _ ╮ ( ╯ - ╰ ”) ╭

_ Gonna have a nasty scar though _

_ Forever branded a lunatic _

_ Good morning btw (?) _

_ I put up a new video on the channel _

_ {link} _

_ Also I wondered if you like Linkin Park, because they remind me of you _

_ I dunno, tho, because you also don’t exactly scream metal… _

_ But like, all of Meteora is basically you _

_ In the best ways _

_ <3 _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I will listen to it! _

_ I have to trust your taste _

_ Everything you’ve sent me has been perfect _

_ Not like anything I’d ever listened to before, but I spend most my time listening to classical stuff and opera _

_ And good evening (?) _

_ It’s one in the morning where you are… _

 

Viktor took another drink of his water. He scrolled back through their chat history, careful to shield his phone in case anyone looked over his shoulder. The number of lewd shots exchanged between them was higher than he wanted anyone to know, even the growing few number of people he was close with. He scrolled back to the bottom of the chat, saw new messages.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ You know me lol _

_ does sleep is real? _

_ I’m glad you like my music taste _

_ it’s full of angst and shit, but I mean…so am I _

_ Are you at the rink rn? Tell Yurio I said hi and I am doing fine _

_ I really appreciate that he got your phone to you when I was in the ER. _

 

Viktor took a screenshot of the messages and sent it to Yuri. He smiled when the teen’s phone lit up on the table. Ever since the day when Yuri forced himself into Viktor’s apartment and demanded his card to go grocery shopping, his relationship with the teen had begun to morph. When Yuri joined the rink, he was still starstruck by Viktor. That fanship faded once Yuri had discovered Yuuri Katsuki, a skater with the same name who convinced Yuri that he, too, could do it. Yuri had improved by leaps and bounds chasing after that shared name, and he’d learned quickly to utilize Viktor’s expertise in order to get there. Viktor himself as a person—he had no idea what the teen thought of him. He was too old to be a friend, too young to be a father figure. They weren’t close enough to be brothers.

Viktor knew that Yuri’s family was mostly absent. Before coming to St. Petersburg to live in the dorms and train, Yuri was being raised by his grandfather. Now that he was winning prize money in the juniors, Yuri was supporting his grandfather’s medical treatments for a bad back and chronic pain. His mother and father were both intermittent figures at best, regularly asked their child for money, guilted him when he didn’t deliver. Yakov had pushed the two of them together, perhaps hoping that Viktor could provide a model for how to handle parental abuse in a healthy way. Not that Viktor had ever handled it well at all. He was just a very good actor.

The façade had begun to come crashing down when Yuri burst in, and then it had been demolished when he’d texted Yakov and convinced the coach to come back the next day. Yakov—now Yuri knew about both of them, and since he was a minor, they had broken the law. Viktor had never broken that law before. He’d fought and struggled to stay quiet and hidden and  _ safe _ . Instead of being disgusted or offended, Yuri had accepted the information as if it was nothing; he’d been much more interested in finding out about Viktor’s parents.

Viktor thought back through that day, then remembered he’d never asked Yuuri for screenshots like Yakov had suggested.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Hey have you ever heard of a group called Pussy Riot? _

 

The response was almost immediate.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Of course, only the second best thing to ever come out of Russia _

_ After a certain sexy figure skater _

_ I hope those women are doing ok _

_ Is there new news? I haven’t heard anything in a while _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Yakov told me to ask you about them and to have you send me screenshots _

_ He…I talked to him finally _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ That’s great!! _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ He told me not to get professional help _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Eh?? Why would he say that?? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ The government. He said you should look for information. I don’t know what to do, but Yakov doesn’t want me to stop seeing you, so that’s good _

_ I was afraid he was going to tell me I had to break up with you _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I mean, you’re an adult, so… _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I know! _

_ I was so surprised he didn’t hit me _

_ I thought for sure he was going to be so angry _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I am very glad he did not hit you, because that would not be normal or ok if he had _

_ He hasn’t ever, has he? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Oh, no no no _

_ Yakov would never _

_ He’s the closest thing to a decent parent I’ve ever had _

 

“Vitya, get back on the ice!” Yakov’s voice hollering interrupted Viktor’s train of thought. Viktor sighed.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Gotta go. ICE TIME! _

_ But if you could send me those screenshots _

_ And anything else on the government here and psychiatry _

_ Yakov was very adamant I not go for it. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I don’t understand why not, but... _

_ Will do <3 _

 

Viktor began practicing in earnest. He worked through each of his routines, including the exhibition, marking jumps as he went. Yakov called corrections and suggestions to him occasionally, but spent more of his time focused on Georgi and Mila. Georgi may not have made it to the GPF this season, but without the Asian and American skaters, he had a shot at the podium at Europeans. Yakov wanted a podium sweep for Russia in Men’s Singles, and as the coach for two of three skaters who would be competing, he was pursuing it with personal pride on the line. Both Georgi and the third-place winner at Nationals needed to perform better than Chris. Viktor doubted they could do it, but Yakov could try.

When he finally reached his next break, he returned to check his phone and found a nightmare of information sent by Yuuri, all of it taken directly from Wikipedia. This information, which was undoubtedly blocked in this country, was easily accessible in the United States. His eyes glanced over some of the text and felt sick.

 

 

_ { _ [ _ screenshot _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#Involuntary_mental_hospitalization) _ } _

_ Involuntary hospitalization in a psychiatric hospital under article 29 of the Law is to meet the following three grounds: _

_ A mentally disturbed individual may be hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital against his will or the will of his legal representative and without a court decision having been taken, if the individual’s examination or treatment can only be carried out by in-patient care, and the mental disorder is severe enough to give rise to: _

  1. _a) a direct danger to the person or to others, or_
  2. _b) the individual’s helplessness, i.e. an inability to take care of himself, or_
  3. _c) a significant impairment in health as a result of a deteriorating mental condition, if the affected person were to be left without psychiatric care._[ _[30]_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTESakharovaGurovichWahlbeck2007116-30)



 

_ {screenshot} _

_ Neither direct danger _ [ _ [31] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENasinnik2009-31) _ nor severe mental disorder is defined in the Law. _ [ _ [32] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTESuatbaev2006-32) _ According to the IPA president  _ [ _ Yuri Savenko _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yuri_Savenko) _ , loud claims, importunate molestations, shocking texts in a personal computer, participation in protests, hunger strikes, protest reaction against sudden and rude involuntary measures started to be called a direct danger. _ [ _ [33] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTESavenkoMursalieva2007-33) _ According to American psychiatrist  _ [ _ Thomas Szasz _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Szasz) _ , the psychiatric formula of "dangerousness to self and others" is very susceptible to changes of medical, political and social fashion. _ [ _ [34] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Szasz-34) _ Prior to 1973,  _ [ _ homosexuality _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homosexuality) _ was such a dangerousness, and since then has no longer been. _ [ _ [34] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Szasz-34) _ Psychologist-criminalist Nataliya Varskaya says that  _ [ _ neuroleptics _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuroleptics) _ that are applied to serious patients make them "vegetables", but the ill stop posing a danger to citizens; alas, but there are no other ways to secure surrounding people against them. _ [ _ [35] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVechernyaya_Moskva2013-35) _ She adds, dangerous patients are not cured even in psychiatric hospitals, they were previously kept in the wards for life, doctors examined them every six months and prolonged, prolonged, prolonged their custody; the doctors were aware that these patients are very dangerous, it is inadmissible to let them go to the streets. _ [ _ [35] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVechernyaya_Moskva2013-35)

 

_ {screenshot} _

_ The citizen may voluntarily come to a psychiatrist who would find a severe mental disorder that requires the mandatory admission to a psychiatric inpatient unit. If the patient refuses the hospitalization offered to him, the doctor gets the right to start the procedure of involuntary hospitalization. _ [ _ [36] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEDmitrievaKrasnovNeznanov201183-36) _ As a psychiatrist says, it is only a psychiatrist who is able to inquire into a patient’s condition and to decide whether his refusal to be treated is a free man’s conscious choice or a symptom of a mental disorder. _ [ _ [37] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENPZ2007b-37) _ In psychiatrist’s opinion, the mentally ill often do not feel and do not deem they are ill. _ [ _ [38] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTESavenko2012b-38) _ They actively avoid therapy and resist all efforts to subject them to it. _ [ _ [38] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTESavenko2012b-38) _ The more the person resists the inpatient psychiatric ward’s demands for his hospitalization, the greater are his chances to find himself indoors or, more precisely, to be left there, because his resistance can be presented by the ward representatives as the lack of his due insight into mental status, as an indication of the severity of his disease. _ [ _ [39] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEKhalikov2012-39) _ In the same vein, the practice was justified by American psychiatrist  _ [ _ Benjamin Rush _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Rush) _ as early as the eighteenth century: "The more they resist our efforts to serve them, the more they have need of our services." _ [ _ [40] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-40) _ The reluctance of patients to undergo neuroleptic treatment, their "spontaneous irritation", protests, etc. are considered as either unremoved symptoms of mental illness (such as depressive neurosis) or, along with tremor, anxiety, dysphoric mood disorder, as "transitory complications". _ [ _ [3] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTERomek2002-3) _ It is profitable for doctors to hospitalize the person in any cases, then bedspace fills up. _ [ _ [41] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEMinnikhanov2010-41) _ Remuneration of the labour of physicians in psychiatric hospitals and funding of the entire industry in Russia are carried out on the basis of the number of beds run by the doctor. _ [ _ [41] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEMinnikhanov2010-41)

 

_ {screenshot} _

_ Russian human rights activist Valery Abramkin says it should be clear for a Russian patient that each medic legally and illegally snatches his large sum from each bed. _ [ _ [42] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAbramkin2005-42) _ However, psychiatrists in their usual way counter the remarks that their funding depends on the number of psychiatric beds by ascribing them to antipsychiatrists and stating that the main motto of antipsychiatrists is the idea that psychiatrists are villains who dream of placing as many people as possible to madhouses. _ [ _ [37] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENPZ2007b-37)

_ Data obtained as results of analysing the work of the psychiatric inpatient facilities show that two thirds of patients placed in a hospital without their consent actively refuse hospitalization. _ [ _ [43] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEUsovFyodorova2006-43) _ In the rest of cases, they are unable to express their attitude to the events because of their mental condition. _ [ _ [43] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEUsovFyodorova2006-43)

_ … _

_ {screenshot} _

_ Legal control over observing the Mental Health Law is not exercised. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ Psychiatry is the only medical specialty in which the doctor is given the right to violence for the benefit of the patient. _ [ _ [83] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEGushansky2010b-83) _ The application of violence must be based on the mental health law, must be as much as possible transparent and monitored by representatives of the interests of persons who are in need of involuntary examination and treatment. _ [ _ [83] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEGushansky2010b-83) _ While being hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital for urgent indications, the patient should be accompanied by his relatives, witnesses, or other persons authorized to control the actions of doctors and law-enforcement agencies. _ [ _ [83] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEGushansky2010b-83) _ Otherwise, psychiatry becomes an obedient maid for administrative and governmental agencies and is deprived of its medical function. _ [ _ [83] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEGushansky2010b-83) _ It is the police that must come to the aid of citizens and is responsible for their security. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ Only later, after the appropriate legal measures for social protection have been taken, the psychiatrist must respond to the queries of law enforcement and judicial authorities by solving the issues of involuntary hospitalization, sanity, etc. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82)

 

_ {screenshot} _

_ In Russia, the psychiatrist is vested with punitive functions, is involved in involuntary hospitalization and, according to Gushansky, the state machine hides behind his back, actually manipulating the doctor. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ The police are reluctant to investigate offences committed by the mentally ill. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ After receiving the information about their disease, the bodies of inquiry very often stop the investigation and do not bring it to the level of investigative actions. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ Thereby psychiatry becomes a cloak for the course of justice and, by doing so, serves as a source for the rightlessness and stigmatization of both psychiatrists and persons with mental disorders. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82) _ The negative attitude to psychiatrists is thereby supported by the state machine and is accompanied by the aggression against the doctors, which increases during the periods of social unrest. _ [ _ [82] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-Gushansky-82)

_ … _

_ The 1993 law is outdated, according to lawyer Vladislav Lapinsky, who took part in its passage. _ [ _ [84] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAgamirov2005-84) _ The law has been foremost for the Russian Federation within those times but now is already outdated and does not have many issues written in. _ [ _ [84] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAgamirov2005-84) _ Lapinsky says a very big issue is that the judges are not experts in psychiatry and cannot evaluate the patient's condition objectively. _ [ _ [84] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAgamirov2005-84) _ On this ground, the judges in courts openly declare that if the doctors in a mental hospital said that the person is sick, they will not check whether healthy or not he is, whether he needs to be hospitalized or not. _ [ _ [84] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAgamirov2005-84) _ They just do what they are told by psychiatrists, and psychiatrists for various reasons _ _ [ _ [ _ clarification needed _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Please_clarify) _ ] _ _ are very often motivated to place the person in a psychiatric hospital. _ [ _ [84] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEAgamirov2005-84)

 

_ {screenshot} _

_ According to Romek, the restriction of civil rights of a person to the extent of his forced isolation based on the possibility alone of his committing illegal acts, which is defined through the notions about it in psychiatry—a discipline very far not only from jurisprudence but from socio-humanitarian knowledge in general, clearly violates the fundamental principle of the democratic justice—presumption of innocence. _ [ _ [3] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTERomek2002-3) _ Since, on the one hand, psychiatry considers a great number of organic anomalies (any brain damages, hormonal imbalances, infectious diseases, etc.) as potential causes of criminal insanity and, on the other hand, the diagnostics of mental disorders is based on very vague descriptions of abnormal behavior, almost anyone can be subjected to involuntary hospitalization by the criterion of social danger and in strict accordance with the Law. _ [ _ [3] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTERomek2002-3)

_ … _

_ {screenshot} _

_ According to the 2013 interview of the representatives of the  _ [ _ Independent Psychiatric Association of Russia _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Independent_Psychiatric_Association_of_Russia) _ to  _ [ _ Radio Free Europe _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radio_Free_Europe) _ , because of the Russian Mental Health Law, sending people away for a month in a mental hospital is easy for prosecutors—with the help of pliable judges—and becomes an increasingly common tactic in the country's campaigns against political dissidence, extremism, and corruption. _ [ _ [89] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTECoalson2013-89)

_ Robert van Voren says, "The law itself is OK but the abuse of it exists." _ [ _ [55] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEClark2014-55) _ The same occasionally happens in many countries monitored by the  _ [ _ Global Initiative on Psychiatry _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Global_Initiative_on_Psychiatry) _. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ Psychiatry is regarded as a handy tool to solve disputes, and one can easily buy a diagnosis from a psychiatrist. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ In most of the countries, forensic psychiatry has changed only slightly, the strong resistance to introducing the modern practices of forensic psychiatry is due to not disparities in schools or views but the fact that the reform of the system would mean the end of corruption. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ Criminals pay off their imprisonment of many years by having themselves declared insane. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ Wealthy husbands declare about the mental illnesses in their wives to get rid of them and yet keep control over their children. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ Children declare their parents and grandparents legally incapable to sell their apartments. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90) _ Even medical institutions recognize their patients as insane to take their property. _ [ _ [90] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEVoren2009-90)

_ … _

_ {screenshot} _

_ Because of omissions of the administration of hospitals, patients are, as a rule, deprived of daily walks, the right to use the telephone. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91) _ They are forbidden to see lawyers and other representatives chosen by them, to receive representatives of human rights organizations. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91) _ In many hospitals, telephone calls and appointments with relatives are allowed only in the presence of attendant staff (a nurse, social worker or hospital attendant), that violates the privacy of such meetings. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91) _ Receiving an appointment requires beforehand permission of the administration. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91) _ The patient's natural right to privacy is not implemented. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91) _ In all psychiatric hospitals, there are patients who are there not for medical but exclusively for social indications, including conflict relationships with family members who live with them. _ [ _ [91] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEArgunova2012-91)

 

_ {screenshot} _

_ According to former  _ [ _ Radio Liberty _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radio_Liberty) _ commentator Eugene Novozhilov, who was persecuted by psychiatrists, human rights of a person registered in a psychiatric dispensary in Russia exist only on paper. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92) _ In the eyes of so-called "law-enforcement agencies", such a person in any situation is always guilty even if attacked and beaten by hooligans. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92) _ Such a person under any hollow pretext can be deprived of his liberty by being placed in a mental hospital for an indefinite period of time. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92) _ Then he can easily be declared legally incapable and stripped of property and all his "paper" rights, when being turned into a silent animal that spends the rest of his days. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92) _ With the help of psychotropic drugs in a psychiatric hospital, a vegetable can be made out of a person within a week. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92) _ To a person trapped in psychiatric torture chambers, the rest of his life can be turned into a long, painful and humiliating agony. _ [ _ [92] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTENovozhilov2013-92)

_ Lyubov Vinogradova believes the law is good in theory, but in reality there has been a continuous reduction in patients' rights as independent experts are now excluded from processes, cannot speak in court and can do nothing against the State experts. _ [ _ [55] _ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mental_health_in_Russia#cite_note-FOOTNOTEClark2014-55)

_ … _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Wikipedia does say that the page’s neutrality is being debated, but I don’t care _

_ If any of this, even one line of it, is true… _

_ Vitya, I love you. _

_ I believe that you need good and proper professional help for your depression _

_ I say this as a person who loves you, as a fellow sufferer of mental illness and as a person who is studying psychology _

_ Do not seek help in Russia. _

 

Viktor read through the information again. Georgi came near him and started to speak, but Viktor hushed him and passed him the phone with the screenshots set back to the beginning. While Georgi was reading, Viktor caught Yakov’s eye. The older man nodded. Georgi handed him the phone, and he began to delete the screenshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat chewed through my computer charger yesterday morning before I woke up, so I am on 34% battery right now and have to conserve it as much as I can before my replacement gets here in the mail tomorrow. Hence, posting now instead of in about nine hours when I usually would. I want to make sure this gets up today.
> 
> If I don't reply to your comments until tomorrow and you wonder about that, I swear it's that my computer has gone dead and I am not ignoring you! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story: I've always used Viktor with a K for Vitya because my boss/program director's name is Victor and I felt weird obsessing over a character with the same name as my boss/program director. I found out recently that.
> 
> 1) When Prof. Victor was born, his name was spelled "Victor"  
> 2) Due to an orthographic accord being passed (I want to say the 1973, but I'm not sure), his name was changed by the government to "Vítor"  
> 3) Due to whatever error in the process, when he became a US Citizen, Prof. Victor's name was written in as...you guessed it..."Viktor."
> 
> So I did this whole Viktor with a K for YOI to differentiate, and oh well. 
> 
> They're both extra as fuck and drive expensive cars anyway...

**January 25, 2016, Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri ran through the meeting with his advisor over and over again in his mind. He knew what he needed—25 to 30 pages of text, APA style, complete bibliography, footnotes, graphs and charts of the data he’d accumulated from the research he’d done in the spring the year before. He had everything he needed to write his thesis, including the time. He could finish before Worlds. It would be hard, but he could do it, and then—Tokyo…he might be able to go to Hasetsu…

He shook his head to clear his mind. Focus on skating and the thesis. Maybe if he medaled, only if he finished writing. Until he finished writing, he would meet with his advisor every two weeks. He had no other classes, just thesis-writing.

He was walking through the campus center when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to the sound. “Oh, Deandre, hey,” he said to the president of the GSA. Deandre and another boy that Yuuri didn’t recognize—probably a freshman—were sitting at a table along the wall with a rainbow flag strung along the front of the table and a stack of flyers and info cards and magnets. “What’s up?” He walked over to the table and grabbed Deandre’s hand in a quick, complex shake.

“You coming back this semester?” Deandre asked. “We could use you.”

Yuuri buried a hand in his hair at the back of his neck. “Ha. Yeah right. I contribute nothing.”

“Except your excellent wit and insight, your acceptance of others at whatever stage they’re at, your amazing skill at locating authentic Asian food—”

“That’s not a skill, we all have that.”

“Your smile that melts a thousand hearts, your cool unapproachability that freezes a thousand suns—”

“Are you trying to get me to come back to the GSA or are you hitting on me?”

“Psh. Hitting on you. Lost cause. Everyone knows you’re super picky about actually dating someone. Like, apart from Pres, no one’s ever come close.”

“Yeah. Right. Uh. Pres. I, um…haven’t seen him in a while…”

“Oh my god,” the freshman said, “you’re Pres’s ex that everyone talks about.”

“People call me Pres’s ex? They talk about me?” His stomach bottomed out. His own friends only referred to Pres as the lacrosse guy or the lacrosse dude, so being on the opposite end and having strangers know him only in relation to his non-relationship with the man was disquieting.

Deandre laughed. “Your face right now, oh my god, Yuuri. It’s okay. We just talked so much about you the first few weeks last semester, but you kept being a no-show, so the newbies didn’t know you, and Pres was still around.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, oh my god. This is Ty, by the way. Tyler. This is the infamous Yuuri.”

The freshman, Tyler, reached to shake Yuuri’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

Yuuri took the hand loosely. “Sure. Same.” He dropped the hand and jumped when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and smiled.

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Should I take my charcoal grey suit with the peaked lapel or the navy with the 75 degree notched lapel? _

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes at his phone. “I have no idea what this means. Dee, what’s the difference between a peaked lapel and a notched lapel?”

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Deandre stood up and leaned over the table. “Who are you texting over there? And where are they having you wear this suit?”

Yuuri blushed and locked his phone screen. “No one,” he said. “And he’s wearing it to a formal event. One’s gray and one’s blue. I don’t know what to tell him.” His phone buzzed again. “Oh. He sent pictures. Never mind. I can pick with pictures. Hold on.”

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ the gray one is prettier _

_ I do like the way the blue one makes your eyes look _

_ but the gray one…I like it more _

_ You look good  _ (｡ ♥‿♥ ｡)

 

He put his phone away. Deandre had a wide grin on his face. “Looks like you’re over Pres after all. What’s his name?”

“You don’t know him,” Yuuri said. “He doesn’t even live here. And he’s not out at home, so I’m not saying his name.”

“But if he doesn’t live here,” Tyler said, “and we don’t know him, what’s the problem?”

Yuuri sighed and stared at Deandre. “This is what happens when you let the freshmen know me just as Pres’s ex.”

“Yuuri’s famous-ish,” Deandre said. “In Japan.”

“Ha. Funny,” Tyler deadpanned. “Right.” He looked at them both, obviously waiting for the rest of the joke. When neither of them broke their expressions, his eyes widened in confusion; he was trying to decide if they were lying or not. He seemed to settle on  _ lying _ . Yuuri felt bad for him.

“So,” Deandre cut through a growing silence. “GSA. You coming?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. He began scratching at his left arm through his sleeve, subconsciously avoiding the still-healing cut along the underside. “I guess. I…I haven’t been…you know, you could just Google it. I’ve been all over the internet all month. Here, just let me,” he said. He typed his own name into the search bar of his phone and passed it to Deandre, who angled the screen so the freshman could see..

Tyler snatched the phone from Deandre’s hand. “Holy shit, you really are famous.”

“It fucking sucks.”

“You have a Wikipedia page.”

“Yup.” Yuuri nodded.

“I totally thought you were both messing with me.”

Deandre smirked. “Nope.”

“This says you tried to…kill…yourself…”

“Yeah, that…” Yuuri moved his hand from his arm to the base of his neck, dug into the skin with his nails. “That is technically internet speculation and has been neither confirmed nor denied.”

“Yuuri,” Deandre came around to the other side of the table. Standing side by side, Deandre dwarfed him, and when the taller man pulled him into a hug, Yuuri’s face collided with his sternum. “Please come back to GSA. I get that you wanted to back off after things ended with Pres, but please come back. This is your last semester, right? We want you to be there. All of us.”

Yuuri froze stiff in his arms, had to fight himself to keep from pushing free. His arm hurt. “I’ll think about it,” he said. As carefully as he could, he tapped Deandre’s side with his injured arm and winced away the jolt of pain.

Deandre let go and took a step back. “Seriously. You don’t have to go it alone.”

Yuuri nodded. “I know. Um. I know it’s all over the internet, but if people in the club haven’t seen it, can you not spread the rumor around? I’m trying to avoid having to make another press statement.”

“So it’s just a rumor, right?” Tyler asked.

Yuuri chuckled nervously and looked at the ground. His hand went back to the base of his neck. “It’s been a rough couple of months,” he said. “Anyway, I have to get to the rink. I’ll think about it, Dee, I promise.”

“Alright, we’ll see you there,” he reached out, and they repeated the handshake before Yuuri took off.

Yuuri jogged across campus toward his apartment. If his  _ ex _ was going to be at GSA, he didn’t think he’d want to be there at all. How many times had Yuuri turned him down before that first night they ended up in bed together? More than a couple. He remembered offering a blowjob, just to get the other man to leave him alone. He didn’t remember the nights, but he knew there were more after that first one. He didn’t remember much of the sex, only in vague snatches. It must have been good enough, because Pres kept coming back for more. How many times did he wake up in the lacrosse player’s bed? Naked each time, covered in cum each time. Yuuri never thought of himself to be the type to exclusively bottom or exclusively top, but with him—well, he didn’t really remember it too well…Viktor’s voice repeating in his memory,  _ that guy belongs in jail _ , Ketty repeating,  _ your boyfriend’s not wrong _ . Yuuri shook his head. He was a jackass, but he wasn’t—no, Yuuri couldn’t accept the idea that Pres was a rapist. He didn’t feel like a victim. He felt like an idiot, and he didn’t want to be around the other man, but he definitely didn’t feel like a victim.

Viktor and Ketty were just overreacting. Pres probably didn’t even realize that Yuuri’s memories of the nights they’d spent together was so shoddy. He’d probably feel guilty if he knew, like Jase Long would feel if he knew that Yuuri couldn’t recall giving him a blowjob. Drunk Yuuri chose Pres, enough times in a row that even Sober Yuuri was beginning to feel an attachment to him. To hear that his  _ almost maybe boyfriend _ was using racial slurs to talk about him behind his back had torn him apart. He’d still had sex with him once more after that, hadn’t he? He wished he could remember better. Pres had come to GSA to apologize, then there was a frat party for the end of the year…they went together…Pres got him a drink, two, three, four—they matched each other drink for drink. Yuuri sucked him off in a closet before they went back to Pres’s dorm. They opened a bottle of something...it got foggy after that. If they were both drunk—it couldn’t be…it couldn’t be what Viktor had said if they’d  _ both _ been drunk.

He reached his apartment, took a minute to drop his bag before locking himself in the bathroom. He washed his face and slapped his own cheeks. He stared at himself in the mirror. “Get it together, Katsuki,” he said. “Get it the fuck together.”

 

 

 

 

 

**January 27, 2016, Evening – Bratislava, Slovakia**

Viktor opened the mini fridge in his hotel room, found it fully-stocked with small bottles of alcohol. He pulled the vodka first, poured it into one of the room’s provided tumblers and drank. He fell onto the bed face-first and lay on his stomach. He was supposed to be heading back down to the lobby to meet up with Chris for dinner, but he didn’t have the energy to go. A night out just before the start of Europeans would attract reporters and paparazzi looking for an inside scoop on the coming competition. Viktor was tired, and the idea of keeping his persona up and pleasant all through dinner, just in case, was exhausting. He rolled over to free his phone from his front pocket.

 

_ To Chris: _

_ Food me here _

_ Rm service? _

 

_ From Chris: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ But there’s this wonderful little bistro _

_ You’ll love it _

_ Please? _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ Tomorrow? _

 

_ From Chris: _

_ I’m going to hold you to it. _

_ What’s your room number again? _

 

Viktor sent the number and waited. Fifteen minutes later, he heard a sharp knock at the door. He pushed himself up and went to look through the peephole, a distortion of Chris’s face greeting him through the glass. Viktor unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hello, darling,” Chris said.

“Chris—hey. No Mássimo tonight?” He moved aside and let his friend into the room.

Chris sat in the hotel armchair. “No Más this  _ week _ . His grandmother has a flu, and his sister is still in Egypt, so he’s been volunteered to nurse her through it. I love him, and I love how responsible he is, but his cousins…It’s always either Más or Marguerite who take care of everything, and ever since Marguerite received that Fullbright, it’s all been on Más’s shoulders.”

“Sounds frustrating. Want a drink?”

“Sure, toss me one.”

Viktor tossed the tiny pinot grigio from the fridge to Chris’s hands and grabbed the second vodka for himself. He poured his into the same tumbler, but Chris sipped straight from the small bottle. “Food?” Viktor asked.

They looked through the hotel’s room service options before Viktor placed the call. The next time there was a knock on the door, Viktor opened it to a bellboy with a rolling cart and tray of food. Viktor helped him wheel it into the room and handed him a tip from his wallet.

Viktor picked at his food, barely eating it. Chris told a story about Mássimo, then a related story about his rink mates. Viktor laughed in all the right places, smiled along with the Swiss group’s antics, but he felt a disconnect. He pushed at his food.

“You know,” Chris interrupted himself, “I hear that forks work better when you stab into your meat and then lift it to your mouth, instead of scooping it up from the side and watching it roll around your plate.”

“Oh?” Viktor said. “I thought it would somersault into my stomach if I gently nudged it along.”

“You of all people know you need to eat, Viktor.”

“I know,” he sighed. He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “I just don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Chris leveled him with a stare, and he took another bite. It felt like sandpaper on his tongue and down his throat, but he swallowed anyway. He needed the calories if he wanted to compete well.

“How are you doing, Viktor?” Chris asked.

“Fine, I guess,” he replied. He took another bite.

“Viktor, darling, your veneer of perfection is off and I can see that you’re lying. Talking about it with people you trust—that is brave. And I know you can be such a bold person…I didn’t want to bring it up before,” Chris tipped the small bottle of wine that he’d been nursing and drank the last drop, “but have you tried therapy yet? Mássimo speaks with a therapist from time to time, and it does him a world of wonders.”

Viktor took another bite before pushing the plate away. “I will eventually. I just…I think I have to retire first.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t make sense to me.”

Viktor shook his head, “No no, it does. After I retire, I can…I can relocate to where Yuuri is. Yuuri already said I could come to Detroit, so maybe after Worlds…”

Chris sighed. “Don’t go too fast with him, Viktor. You only  _ met _ about six weeks ago, and neither of you are particularly well right now.”

“I know,” Viktor snapped. “Sorry. I can’t help it, though, Chris.” His voice softened and a smile grew on his lips. “It’s still early, I know, but…I’m definitely in love. If I move to be with him tomorrow or if we have to wait another twenty years to be together, I will still be in love. I love him. I’ve never loved anyone before.”

“Not even your friends?”

“You know what I mean,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“I suppose, darling. You do seem much more…human since he’s come into your life.”

_ Human _ . Viktor lay back on the bed, feet on the ground, unsure what that meant. Before he’d met Yuuri, he had never shown Chris the darker sides of his mind, but now they had talked about his depression, his suicide attempt, his parents’ abuse. He didn’t feel more human. “I feel so much more exposed,” he said. “Every time we have a call, I wonder if my neighbors can sense it, if the doorman or cashier at the corner store know. I had a slip-up with Georgi—he overheard me on the phone with him. It was okay in the end, but ever since then I’ve been…I feel like I’m checking over my shoulder everywhere I go. Like if I turn one wrong corner, I’ll be stopped and whisked away. But I wouldn’t trade it, Chris. I feel alive when I talk to him, and when he’s been hurt, I completely stop caring about the perception. When he cut himself…”

“Ah, so it’s true. He didn’t reply to any of my texts.”

Viktor blushed. “Sorry about that. He does that sometimes, chooses not to reply if he feels guilty or if he’s not sure what to say. He’s even ignored me once or twice. The first time I told him I loved him, he didn’t respond for half an hour, and I nearly died thinking I’d done something horribly wrong.”

Chris stood and wheeled the cart toward the door. “You don’t need to apologize on his behalf; I’ve known Yuuri even longer than I’ve known you, after all.”

“True. Sometimes I forget this. I feel like I’ve known him all my life.” Viktor grew quiet, his thoughts wrapped up in Yuuri. He smiled. “I think helping him with everything he’s dealing with has kept me from getting as bad as I was in Sochi.”

“Maybe,” Chris said as he sat back down, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t need help anymore. Especially with what you told me about your parents—”

“Why are you bringing that up?”

“Sorry.” Chris sighed and rubbed his temple. “I just worry about you. I always have,  _ mon ami _ , but more now than before.”

“This is why I’m thinking about retiring,” Viktor said. “If I retire…”

Viktor’s phone began to buzz.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Phichit is dragging me to GSA _

_ Wish me luck, cuz I think my ex will be there _

_ And I’m pretty sure I saw him the day I blacked out, so _

_ Fingers crossed for antipsychotics and responsible beverage choices _

_ At least my hand’s not shaking, because it did that for like an hour this morning _

_ That’d be fucking embarrassing. _

_ Everyone pointing to my spazzy hands like _

_ ‘Oh, hey, you’re Pres’s ex—I’d shake your hand, but it’s doing that for itself’ _

 

Viktor’s heart jumped to his throat. Today was a day that Yuuri called him an ex; usually, if he came up in conversation at all, he was just ‘lacrosse guy’ or something similar. In one of the very few conversations he’d had with Phichit, the younger skater had referred to lacrosse guy as Yuuri’s ex, but for Yuuri to use the term was rare. Pres—this was the first time he’d seen or heard a real name attached to the person who’d raped Yuuri less than a year ago. He remembered the panic in Yuuri’s eyes the moment their night together in Sochi had turned heated. He remembered the fear. He remembered Yuuri’s pleading voice asking,  _ is it even sex if you don’t remember it? _ Viktor did not like the idea of Yuuri being anywhere near  _ lacrosse guy _ . He replied to Yuuri quickly.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Be safe. _

_ I love you. _

_ Stay away from that guy, pretty pretty please _

 

Then, because he couldn’t get himself to settle back down, he sent a text to Yuuri’s best friend.

 

_ To Phichit (be afraid): _

_ Hi, Phichit, Yuuri said you were going to a party or something together. He seemed worried about that lacrosse guy being there. You’ll keep an eye out for him, won’t you? Please? That guy is bad news. _

 

His phone buzzed in reply.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ gonna do my best, but I can’t make promises _

_ wish I could _

 

_ From Phichit (be afraid): _

_ No shitty exes coming near him, I swear! _

_ Got your back, Nikiforov ;) _

 

Viktor let out a sigh of relief. Phichit would take care of Yuuri. Phichit was Yuuri’s best friend. He looked at his own best friend, watching him with concern. “Actually, Chris,” he said, words heavy in his mouth, “I don’t think I’m fine after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! Recently, Denrhea was targeted by an anti-Semitic troll. I've been fortunate to not really have haters on my posts, which is good for my fragile mental heath, so thank you guys! I have the best set of readers on AO3, legit. Den, however, spent so much time even just trying to delete these long, hateful comments. Drop her some love and help her fight the fight, pretty please. She works so hard for her fics. Like, seriously, some days she will send us like four chapters to read at once because she couldn't stop writing, real life be damned.
> 
> We won't bend to hate, whether that hate is based on sexuality, gender, race or religion. Let's work together to stand up against hate speech and harmful rhetoric.
> 
> Love you all!!
> 
> -Maggie


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General reminder: If you're feeling suicidal, talk to someone.  
> General reminder: Avoid your abusive exes and homophobic relatives if you can.  
> General reminder: Don't be an abusive asshole.

**January 29, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri stood in the bathroom and stared at the mark on his arm. The skin had grown closed at some point three or four days ago, but it was still healing internally and would hurt for the next few weeks. The line passed down the center of his wrist and creeped up his the underside of his arm . He closed his eyes and saw the blood, Phichit’s hands covered in it as they held his arm together. The bruises from his fingers had already faded, but the scar taunted him. The part of him that didn’t remember the sequence of events leading up to the cut was grateful that he’d survived, but part of him resented it. Part of him wished he’d hit the mark and that he’d bled out before the ambulance had arrived. They’d told him to be thankful he hadn’t researched this before his mental snap, thankful he’d missed the artery by about half a centimeter, thankful he’d grabbed a straight-edged blade and not a serrated knife, thankful he’d only made one cut that had somehow stayed straight. He shivered, wondered how different the damage would have been if he’d done anything differently. He tried not to store the facts for the future.

When he’d gone to his session that afternoon, Dr. Kyper had given him homework for this feeling. He needed to reframe it in his mind, and he intended to do just that. Yuuri hated the deep lust for death that half-consumed him. Yuuri wanted to live. He looked at his face in the mirror. He wanted to live, didn’t he? Try to think of this as a competition, Dr. Kyper said.  _ I’m stubborn, a sore loser. I hate to lose _ . Yuuri fixed his own eyes with a glare. If this was a competition against withdrawal, against  _ himself _ , then he was going to compete and  _ win _ . If he won, he lived. If he lost, he died. It wasn’t a battle; that analogy didn’t resonate with him. In terms of war, Yuuri was a pacifist. But a competition...he hated to lose.

Phichit knocked on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you ready?”

“Almost,” Yuuri called back. “Just gotta wash my hands.” He turned on the tap, squirted the pre-foaming soap into his hands and washed them. After he dried them, he tugged the long black sleeve down to his wrist. He left the bathroom, flipping the light off behind him.

“Yuuri—no. What are you wearing?” Phichit stared at him, eyes wide. He was wearing tight jeans and a rainbow crop top with #PRIDE emblazoned across the chest. He motioned toward Yuuri’s outfit. “That is unacceptable.”

Yuuri looked down at his body. He had on a long sleeved black shirt and a pair of Mizuno running pants. “What? It’s not like I’m trying to pick anyone up. I have a boyfriend.”

“Who is working very hard to bring home the money at Euros right now, but honey—you can’t wear that. You need something with more…pizazz. Something that screams ‘I have hot phone sex with my sexy Russian man on the daily and it’s better than fucking any of you in person’ instead of…that.”

“There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”

“You don’t even have eyeliner on, Yuuri. That’s basic. Come on,” he grabbed Yuuri’s hand and pulled him into his room. Phichit began tearing through his closet. “What about this shirt?”

The shirt was black and had short sleeves; it featured picture of a rainbow unicorn. Yuuri had worn it to the GSA end-of-year party his sophomore year. “No.” Phichit pulled out three more suggestions, and Yuuri rejected each of them. “You can stop now,” he said. “I’m not changing.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to look fabulous, Yuuri?”

Yuuri held up his arm and the sleeve slid down to his elbow. At the hospital, they’d given him two stitches, but most of it had been held together with steri-strips—he would have a scar for the rest of his life, but it would fade eventually. For the next year or so, however, it would be painfully vibrant on his skin. “This, Phi. I’m not changing because of this. Can we just go?” Phichit hesitated, eyes locked on Yuuri’s arm. They hadn’t talked about it since the night after Yuuri had come home, and Yuuri had no idea what Phichit was thinking. He dropped his arm and covered it with the sleeve when he noticed Phichit’s eyes start to water. “Sorry,” Yuuri mumbled quickly. “You’ll smear your makeup like that, you know.”

“It’s waterproof, bitch,” Phichit said. He sniffed and dabbed the budding tears from the ducts. “Come on, let’s go to the party.”

They grabbed their coats and their keys and started heading toward campus. The party would start in the campus center and eventually migrate to one of the three gay bars frequented by members of the club, probably Gigi’s. Yuuri made no guarantees about moving on to the second half of the party, but since he’d gone to the first meeting of the semester, Phichit, Alex Garrison and Deandre had all been texting him nonstop. Pres had been a no-show at the club meeting, so Yuuri had agreed to show up at the first half of the party. It took twenty minutes walking to get to the campus center and the room that had been reserved for the party.

Yuuri’s phone buzzed as they entered.

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ I think I was overscored _

 

“What?” Yuuri said under his breath. Phichit grabbed him by the elbow and led him away from the door while he typed his reply.

“Join me when you’re done texting loverboy, okay?” Phichit asked. Yuuri nodded, focused on his phone, and Phichit headed toward the center of the room.

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Not that I could tell. Do you really feel that way? It was beautiful. I could hardly notice your ‘I’m dead inside’ eyes underneath your shiny exterior. It was a thoroughly convincing and moving short program. I may have cried. (this is unconfirmed). _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ I know my presentation can’t be as good as they’re scoring it. _

_ I know it. _

_ This whole sport is so subjective. _

_ I know I’m being overscored because of my name _

_ I know it. _

_ What’s the point of doing any of this if they’re just going to let me win? _

_ Chris should be in first right now, not me. _

_ It’s not fair. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ I can point you to several tumblr blogs that argue that you’re underscored o.O _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ ha no. _

_ YOU are underscored. _

_ Criminally. Tragically. TERRIBLY underscored. _

_ Your choreography doesn’t deserve you, either _

_ You’re the most fluid and graceful skater on the ice _

_ You belong on the podium, Yuu-tan. _

_ I belong in a retirement home. _

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes at his phone, but he was smiling. He did not believe for a moment that he was the most fluid or the most graceful skater competing, but he believed that in Viktor’s eyes, he was. He was also beginning to believe that Viktor was right, that he was being systematically underscored. If that was true, then he would just have to prove that he was better than his scores. Four Continents was in two weeks. Dr. Kyper had cleared him to do jumps. He could win it.

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ If your retirement home is my bedroom, I would be happy to take care of your needs ;) _

_ By the way, guess who is at the GSA Semester Startup party… _

_ don’t guess. it’s fucking obvious _

 

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri jumped and squeaked. He turned, looking for whoever had called his name. His eyes landed on Tyler, the freshman he’d met earlier in the week, several feet in front of him. Yuuri sent him a sheepish wave and looked back at his phone, hoping the kid would leave him alone. He looked around; Phichit was on the dance floor. He could see Alex Garrison with him. Ketty might show up later. If he could hang tight in the corner without interacting with anyone until Ketty showed up—

“I’m so glad you’re here,” the freshman said when he got closer. “Texting your mysterious boyfriend again?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Hi. Um. What are you doing over here?”

“Sorry, it’s just—you’re kind of legendary with the people who joined last semester. We’ve all heard crazy stories of this drop-dead gorgeous Japanese man with a god-like tongue by night but a total Clark Kent personality switch by day. If Pres weren’t so bent up about you, I think most of us wouldn’t think you were real.”

“Pres. Right. Are you close with him or something?”

“I guess. He’s a cool guy. I…things are definitely over between you and him, right? Like, you have a new boyfriend. You wouldn’t mind if…”

“He’s really not a good person. You shouldn’t get involved.”

“Oh.” Tyler wilted for a moment. “He’s really nice to me.”

“I guess you’re white, so maybe you’re more his type,” Yuuri snapped. “Maybe he’d actually fucking respect you instead of call you racist shit behind your back. I don’t care if you go after him if you want him, but he’s  _ not _ nice. He’s—oh fuck.”  _ He’s here. _ Yuuri bristled when the lacrosse player noticed him. He looked from side to side when the other man walked toward him. He took a step back when he entered his personal space. He took another step back.

“Hey,” Pres said. He didn’t even look at Tyler, who stepped away from the not-couple.

“Um. Hello?” Yuuri shot a quick look to the freshman, looking for interference, but the kid was watching their interaction too intently, unsure whether to be jealous of the attention or to be offended at being ignored. Yuuri looked at the floor.

“How—how are you?” He put a hand on his shoulder. Yuuri stepped away. He didn’t touch him again, but he stepped closer. “I saw a thing in the news. I was worried.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Yuuri said. He looked around Pres, trying to catch eyes with Phichit. “I—I’m fine, I promise.”

“Listen, Yuu—I’m…I’m still really sorry about the way things happened last year. Can we talk? I’ll get you a drink?” He reached out a hand and traced the line of Yuuri’s jaw, turning his head to look at him. Yuuri kept his eyes down to avoid locking them with Pres’s stare.

Yuuri’s phone buzzed and he tore away from the touch. “Sorry, hold on.”

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ I wish I was there with you! _

_ Be safe! _

_ Don’t take drinks from strange men! _

_ That includes Lacrosse Dude _

_ Guy _

_ Boy _

_ Man-child _

_ Don’t interact with him if you can avoid it. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Too fucking late he’s fucking right here _

 

“Sorry. Um. Sorry, Pres. I, uh. I stopped drinking. And, uh…I’m…seeing someone now, so I don’t really think…”

“Someone is dating you?” Pres’s voice was tight, and Yuuri felt his body tense in response.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Sorry, it’s just—I saw something on the internet that said you were in rehab, and I was worried, but I wouldn’t think you’d need to do something like that if you were with someone. You never had any problems with drugs last year.”

Yuuri looked over at Phichit again, caught eyes with Alex Garrison instead. He saw Alex tap Phichit on the shoulder and point towards Yuuri. “If you read the whole story, you’d know it was an accident with my anxiety meds. Look, I don’t really—”

Pres grabbed his wrist, his injured wrist. “Please, Yuuri—let’s try again. I won’t…you know I didn’t mean what I said. It’s just, like, locker room talk. I’m the only gay guy on the team. If I don’t talk like that sometimes, they can feel threatened. If you’re really that bent up about it, I won’t do it again.”

Yuuri closed his eyes against the pain, took a deep breath. “Pres, I just said I was seeing someone. Like, officially. I’m not single. Would you please let go of my arm?” Phichit was getting closer, and Yuuri was praying for the next twelve seconds to pass so that his friend could get him out of there.

“Yuuri, you have to come dance with me!” Phichit shouted as he pushed past Pres. He grabbed Yuuri’s right hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. As soon as they had distance between them, Phichit leaned up to whisper in Yuuri’s ear, “I am so sorry. I didn’t notice him come in.”

“It—it’s fine, it’s okay. Is Ketty here yet?”

“Nope, I haven’t seen her. Alex, come here! Come dance with us!” Phichit pulled Alex next to them, and the three spent the next few songs dancing together. Yuuri still didn’t see Ketty, so he pulled out his phone and wandered toward the edge of the dance floor. He had unread messages from Viktor, but he shot a text to Ketty first.

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Are you coming to the GSA party? _

_ Lacrosse is here _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Shit, can you get out of there? _

_ I really really don’t trust that guy. _

_ I trust you _

_ But that guy is evil. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ I don’t think he’s evil exactly _

_ Just a shitty ex-fling who messed with my head for a while and then turned out to be racist. _

_ I told you he’s racist, right? _

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ Yeah, sorry, I’m coming. _

_ Lev’s homophobic cousins are visiting, so it was hard to get away without getting a lecture on the evils of sodomy. Be there in about 15. _

_ Lev is stuck and jealous of me. _

_ You wanna leave when I get there? _

_ I feel no obligation to stay so long as I don’t have to go back to Miriam Cohen. _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Please dear god get me out of here, yes. _

_ Gravy fries? _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ That and a rapist yes. _

_ Coming in strong on those R words. _

 

Yuuri locked his phone. Was the music getting louder? It felt like it was louder. It also felt like it was getting warmer. He tugged at the collar of his long-sleeved shirt. He scratched at his arm through the sleeve. His wrist wasn’t sore from being grabbed anymore, but he still felt the strength and shape of fingers wrapped around it. He wanted to push up his sleeves. Phichit had suggested so many short-sleeved shirts, and he’d been right. It was too hot in here. He couldn’t push up his sleeves. He couldn’t push up his sleeves. Everyone would see the scar. They would see it and think he was  _ weak _ . They were probably glad he’d disappeared last semester. They didn’t really need him, they couldn’t really want him around if he wasn’t drinking and giving out blowjobs like candy. If they saw the scar, they would all see how fucked up he was, and they would mock him. They would mock him and make fun of him behind his back, just like Pres had done last year. Pres, who knew about rehab. Pres, who’d grabbed his arm. Pres was walking toward him again.

Yuuri left the room.

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ I need air _

_ Going to wait for Ketty outside _

 

In the clarity of the hall, with the bright fluorescent lights and the dim vibrations of the music barely pushing through the concrete walls, he took a breath. He closed his eyes, then opened them. He didn’t want to deal with Pres, and he was afraid that the lacrosse player would follow him. He went to the women’s restroom one floor below—the only restroom on campus of either gender with both a floor-length mirror and a cushioned bench. It was a poorly-kept secret from most of the men on campus.

Yuuri had never been in this restroom before. The famed bench had a hole cut in the top with some of the foam padding torn out, but three-quarters of it was functional, and it was long enough for two people anyway. He sat on the bench and plucked at the exposed foam for a minute before he pulled out his phone again.

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Can we not call it that? _

_ I don’t want to call it that. _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ I am now hiding in the women’s room with the couch, so find me here. _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ Can I call it sexual assault? Because that’s what it is. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ If that’s the case, then half of my friends are guilty, too. _

_ I don’t want them to feel that way. I know I look completely consentable when I’m drunk. _

_ It’s not their fault. _

_ Phi got me away from him just now, so it’s all good. Waiting for Ketty, then we’re gonna bounce. _

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ Just parked. Be there in a minute. _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ I am not going to press this right now _

_ Have fun with Ketty _

_ I have to go to bed or Yakov will murder me tomorrow _

_ Good night _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Good night!! Love you!! _

 

The bathroom door opened, and Ketty came through it. “Hey, Yuu-kun. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh, thank god. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Ketty laughed. “I believe someone mentioned gravy fries? It’s your turn to buy.”

Yuuri nodded. With one last text to Phichit informing him of their change in plans, he followed Ketty to her car and the two left together for Diner 95.

  
  


 

 

 

 

**January 31, 2016, Afternoon – Bratislava, Slovakia**

Viktor stepped down from the center of the podium after Chris and Georgi left their spots at silver and bronze, and the three did their victory lap. All he had left was an exhibition skate and a sponsor banquet. He could get through them and then get home to his dog. His two friends kept watching him, as if he were about to break. He felt the tension—they must be thinking about his last major competition. It was frustrating to be under constant and unspoken supervision, almost as frustrating as his conversation with Yuuri on Friday night.

He reached the gate and clicked his guards onto his blades. Yuuri defended his own rapist, and Viktor didn’t understand. It was so clear to him what had happened. Based on Yuuri’s own telling of the story, he suspected that this lacrosse player might have even been lacing Yuuri’s drinks with something to make him more compliant. He felt paranoid thinking that, but it also made sense. If that had been happening, then…his rink mate, Tonya, she had also defended the man who’d been grooming her. She had claimed it was true love, that love knew no age restrictions. She had been fifteen, and he had been thirty-five. Viktor couldn’t understand what compelled Tonya to believe she was in love, and he couldn’t understand what had convinced Yuuri that the way he’d been treated was okay, or even if wrong, his own fault.

Viktor was afraid of making people angry, of not performing to their satisfaction. He was afraid of being a failure, and growing up, he’d often taken the blame for things that were not his fault. If their positions were reversed, Viktor might be even more stubborn than Yuuri about this. Viktor knew that to be frustrated with Yuuri was counterproductive and more than a little hypocritical, but he couldn’t help himself. He was frustrated with Yuuri, still, two days later.

A swarm of reporters pulled him aside.

A woman asked, “Mr. Nikiforov, how are you feeling about your performance heading into the World Championships?”

He smiled, flipped his hair. “I feel that my programs have proven themselves well this season. I look forward to meeting my competitors again in Tokyo in March.”

“Mr. Nikiforov, will you be performing the new exhibition piece you posted to YouTube instead of the skate you’ve been using all season?”

“Hmm,” Viktor placed a finger on his lips. “I hadn’t thought to. That piece was more for fun, and to communicate a message of solidarity and hope to my friend, who has been going through hard times lately. It was designed without any jumps, and I believe the audience here would like to see some of those tomorrow night. If my fans would rather see an expanded version of ‘Ya Sudahlah,’ they can tweet at me, and maybe I’ll switch it out for Worlds.”

“Mr. Nikiforov,” a man waved at him from the middle of the pack of reporters. Viktor nodded at him, recognizing him as a fellow Russian. He spoke in English, for the benefit of the crowd. “First, let me say that I am sorry for your loss.”

Viktor laughed and held up his gold medal. “Is this a loss? Should I trade with Chris?” The other reporters chuckled along with him.

“No, I’m sorry to hear about your father,” the reporter clarified.

Viktor felt his grin drop along with his stomach. “My…father?”

A deep hush fell over the reporters and the skater. The reporter who’d spoken looked anxiously at the others. “ _ Da _ ,” he replied, switching to Russian. “It’s been reported that he passed away three days ago.”

“He’s dead?”

Yakov pulled out his phone and began typing. He opened a link on his phone, eyes popping as he read it. “Vitya,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

Viktor peered at the screen before grabbing the phone from Yakov. “St. Petersburg Business Magnate Andrei Ivanovitch Nikiforov—that’s…that’s him. Thursday in his…preceded in death by his wife, Oksana…survived by his only son, Olympic figure skater…memorial service on February first…that’s—that’s tomorrow, Yakov…he’s—he’s dead. Yakov, he’s  _ dead _ .”

Yakov reached to place a hand on his shoulder, but Viktor flinched away, his shoulders raised and chest caving in to create space and a barrier. Yakov pulled his hand away then slowly lowered it onto the small of Viktor’s back. He nudged him in the direction of the exit. “Come on, Vitya, let’s get you out of—”

Viktor didn’t move his feet, but his upper body seemed to shrink more, his eyes still fixed on the phone screen. “Andrei Ivanovitch is dead. It’s—they didn’t tell me, Yakov. He’s—they didn’t  _ tell _ me.”

“I know, boy. Let’s get out of here.”

“I have to…I…I have to call Yuuri. I have to—” Viktor was shaking in his confusion, knuckles going white where they gripped Yakov’s phone.

“It’s okay, Vitya, you can call him in a minute, after we get—”

Viktor broke his gaze on the screen to turn his eyes on his coach. “They didn’t  _ tell _ me, Yakov. They’re burying him  _ tomorrow _ and they didn’t  _ tell  _ me. Why didn’t…why do they hate me so much? All…all I’ve ever done is bring pride to Russia. I never did anything to them. They—if they don’t want me there, they could say that, and I wouldn’t care. I would stay away, they  _ know _ I would, but they… _ shouldn’t _ they have told me? Why didn’t they  _ tell  _ me?”

“Vitya, we’re in public. Please, pull yourself together for just five minutes so we can get you somewhere  _ private _ .”

Viktor nodded and allowed himself to be led away from the reporters. He waited in the locker room while Yakov went to inform the press conference that Viktor wouldn’t be making it. With shaking hands, Viktor called Yuuri.


	17. Chapter 17

**February 1, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Bratislava, Slovakia**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov Reacts to News of Father’s Death ENGLISH SUBTITLES** }

{icon image: Viktor hunched over Yakov’s phone in front of a crowd of reporters}

101,932 Views

***dOnT bLaMe Me***

 

Published January 31, 2016

Video description: This is the clip that aired on ESPN 2 when Viktor Nikiforov found out about his father’s death. I put in English subtitles for all of it, since he switches to Russian partway through.

FAIR USE NOTICE: Section 107 of the Copyright Act permits the unlicensed use of copyright-protected works in certain circumstances, such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research – I THINK THIS COUNTS AS NEWS REPORTING AND COMMENTARY, DON’T YOU????

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**Viktorrent** 16 hours ago Oh my god that poor baby. Why wouldn’t anyone call him to tell him that his father died? That is wrong on so many levels. Who does that??? It’s disgusting

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**flaming hot neato** 10 hours ago Viktorrent I totally agree that it’s disgusting. I don’t care if it’s your crazy car-thief second cousin once removed sitting in prison serving five to ten for grand theft auto. You call people when their parents die. And Viktor Nikiforov? What has he ever done to his family that deserved to be treated like that??

***~PikaPi~*** 5 hours ago Viktorrent spent all these years thinking Viktor Nikiforov was hewn from the ice and breathed to life like Pygmalion, and here we find out he has relatives. And they seem like bags of dicks. I’m preferring the Pygmalion spin still. I hope Viktor is okay.

 

**All About the Pentiums** 15 hours ago Okay but maybe they didn’t want him to mess up his competition? Like, if his father died the day he was traveling to Slovakia, maybe they just wanted to wait until he got home so they could tell him in person? I get that he probably feels really betrayed, but it could have been done out of pity/sympathy/love, amirite? Like, people aren’t that shitty. People just don’t do that. Also, isn’t he the one who made sure to include that Katsuki’s dog dying affected his GPF skate? They probably just wanted him to be able to skate okay.

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**pitterpatterkitterkatter** 12 hours ago All About the Pentiums that’s what I think, too, but my boyfriend is convinced that they did this on purpose to be mean to him. I get that that’s what Viktor seems to think here, but we don’t have the whole story. I mean, I would be hurt and devastated if a reporter told me my dad died in front of a crowd of reporters. I wouldn’t be thinking clearly at all, and I might place blame where it isn’t due. Like, why on earth wouldn’t his family contact him? Because he had to skate, and they know how much it means to him. He’s literally the best in the world.

**Kelly Clarkson is My Bae** 9 hours ago All About the Pentiums if you paid any attention, Viktor clearly thinks they did this on purpose because his family hates him. I have no idea why anyone would possibly hate Viktor Nikiforov, but his family has never once been mentioned in any interview he’s ever done, so maybe that is a part of it. Not everyone has a perfect family life, just sayin’.

 

**RATATAT TAT** 7 hours ago This is the most painful thing I have ever watched. My aunt, who basically raised me, died last year, and I would have been absolutely devastated if anyone had hid that from me for any reason whatsoever. I do have to say, though…it doesn’t seem like Viktor had a very good relationship with his father either. I mean, he called him by his first name and not anything like dad.

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**that snorkel was just like a snorkel to me** 7 hours ago RATATAT TAT I call my dad by his first name and our relationship is fine. I don’t really know what Russian culture is like, but if it’s like the US, then people make this seem like a big deal when it’s not.

**Elf Off the Shelf** 3 hours ago RATATAT TAT what his relatives did is super shitty, but I definitely think you’re onto something with the whole not a good relationship thing. I mean, have we ever heard him mention his father (or mother, for that matter) in any interviews or conversations ever? His new bestie Yuuri-kun has said more about his family in interviews, and that boy is notoriously tight-lipped about his life.

 

 

 

Viktor hadn’t failed so many jumps in a practice before, not since before he’d mastered the quad lutz. After a painful and unproductive half hour with Chris and Georgi and the Ladies’ Singles medalists all watching him wide-eyed, he left the ice. He couldn’t look at Yakov. He’d messed up more in the past thirty minutes than he had in the past three years. He checked the time on his world clock app and sat down in the Kiss and Cry. By now, the funeral was long since over and the reception had probably dissipated. He texted Yuuri.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Falling hurts. A lot. I hate it. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Omg welcome to my world _

_ It’s okay if your head’s not in it, you know. You’re allowed to be messed up. _

_ It was really messed up what happened to you _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Which part? _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ All of it _

 

A flash of red color and movement in the corner of his eye pulled Viktor away from his phone. “I don’t need condolences, but thanks,” he said to Mila.

“How did you know that’s what I was going to say?” she asked.

“Call it intuition,” he said. “You know, I really enjoy your exhibition skate.”

“Really? I think it’s kind of lame sometimes.”

“It would be amazing if you could land a triple axel.” Viktor leaned back in his seat and held his hands up. “Picture it. Third woman ever, first Russian woman, to land a triple axel in competition. I think you need to go for it for next season.”

Mila grinned. “Will you teach me?”

“I…” Viktor stopped himself. He didn’t want to be in St. Petersburg anymore. He wanted to be as far away from Russia as possible. He was physically tired, made of aching joints and aging ligaments with only a couple more years of competitive energy to them, and he was emotionally exhausted. Even though he hadn’t seen or spoken with his father in nearly a decade, they had always occupied the same city. In the back of his mind, Viktor had believed they might reconcile. He longed for it, for the day when his father would call him Vitya instead of Viktor Andreievitch like a stranger. When had the formalities even begun? He couldn’t recall the word  _ Vitya _ in his father’s voice, though he could hear it in his mother’s and his uncle Yevgraf’s. If Andrei Ivanovitch was dead, then that hope had died as well. Viktor had been disowned a long time ago, disinherited. Yevgraf had called to tell him so once, six years ago. Completely disinherited in his father’s first draft of his will. He was dead now. There was nothing left that Viktor could do in order to re-earn his affection. There would be no chance encounters on the street while he did his summer jogs, no meetings while Makkachin sniffed a park bench. Andrei Ivanovitch was gone from St. Petersburg.

Mila waved her hand in front of Viktor’s face. “Oi, hey. Viktor.”

Viktor blinked at her, shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, Mila, what did you say?”

Mila placed a hand on his knee, rubbed circles with her thumb. “I’m really sorry about your dad, Viktor. My dad’s been in and out of the hospital for so long that I’m convinced this is going to happen to me, get the call at a major competition. It’s my greatest fear.”

“You must be close with him.”

“Mmhmm! He’s my biggest fan.”

Viktor smiled, unsure of whether it was a genuine or media grin. Jealousy dampened by joy. “That’s good,” he said.

“At least,” she said, “since he’s ill so frequently, I know to be expecting it. It hurts, but it is what it is. Was…this wasn’t expected, though, was it?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor whispered. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know,” he said again, louder. “Andrei Ivanovitch…was not my biggest fan.”

Mila nodded, and the conversation died off. After a long minute of silence, she stood up. “You know,” she said, “I like your exhibition skate, too, but I think I would rather see you do that Malaysian song in person. It’d be a surprise to do an exhibition without that quad flip of yours, don’t you think? A nice surprise.”

“The song is from Indonesia.”

“Oh. Um, oops? Indonesian song. I think you should do the Indonesian song instead.”

Viktor stood and stretched his arms behind his back. “You think so?”

“I can tweet it at you, if you’d like.”

“No, no,” he said with a smile that he knew was genuine. “I think it would definitely surprise the audience, yes. Thanks, Mila. Now, about that triple axel.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 3, 2016, Afternoon – St. Petersburg, Russia**

 

{link}

{ **Nikiforov’s Moving Exhibition In Wake of Father’s Death** }

_ In what can only be considered a touching tribute to his late father, legendary figure skater Viktor Nikiforov (RUSSIA) swapped out his exhibition skate to Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2 for a sparse and jumpless routine set to the Indonesian pop/rap song “Ya Sudahlah” by Bondan Prakoso and Fade 2 Black. After the performance, Nikiforov said that he was having trouble concentrating, and that he worried he would be unable to perform complex jumps safely, which became his deciding factor in changing routines. When asked in an interview the day before, Nikiforov had said that he would keep his exhibition to Rachmaninov. The routine to the Indonesian song, with its themes of overcoming hardships through friendship, community and inner strength, was originally choreographed for Nikiforov’s shared YouTube channel with friend and fellow competitor Yuuri Katsuki (JAPAN). The channel is a place where the two post videos set to music that reflect how they are feeling at the moment, and appears to be a loose dialogue between the two and their fans. Presented as it was after his father’s death, “Ya Sudahlah” has become a message to Nikiforov’s fans that in spite of this personal tragedy and loss, he intends to keep moving forward and find inner peace. _

 

 

Viktor held the summons in his hand, double-checked that the address printed on the page matched the building in front of him. Yesterday, he’d gotten back to his building and Pavel Nikolaievitch had handed him a letter, said that a man in a suit had come to deliver it personally two days before. The summons, signed by his father’s lawyer and his uncle Yevgraf, requested his presence at his earliest convenience for a reading of Andrei Ivanovitch’s will. Viktor had called the lawyer immediately and scheduled for the next day.

He took a deep breath and held it before releasing it, like Yuuri had shown him so that Viktor could better help him with his anxiety. Viktor was anxious about this meeting. He entered the law practice, checked in with a secretary who led him to a small conference room.

Inside, seated around an oval table in leather chairs, he saw a small collection of relatives and his father’s business partners. The mild chatter amongst the others dropped off when Viktor walked through the door.

The lawyer took his hand, and Viktor shook it limply. “Welcome,” the man said, “you must be Viktor Andreievitch. It is good for you to finally be here.”

His uncle Yevgraf, his aunt Irina, his cousin Boris, his great-uncle Pyotr—he recognized them all, but no longer knew them. Boris was Yuuri’s age; the last time they’d seen each other, he’d been a child in middle school. Three other people—all he knew was that they ran the business underneath Andrei Ivanovitch, and they were likely here to represent the company’s best interest. He felt all of their eyes on him, glued to his movements in a completely new way. He grew a hot dislike of the scrutiny; it burned to feel like the object of so many people’s frustration all at once and in close proximity.

Viktor nodded to the lawyer and took a seat. He didn’t know why he was here; he’d been disowned eight years ago, officially disinherited. There was no point.

“Now,” the lawyer said as he sat and removed a folder from a briefcase, “let us begin.” He opened the folder. “This being the last will and testament of Andrei Ivanovitch Nikiforov. I, Andrei Ivanovitch Nikiforov, resident in the federal city of Saint Petersburg, Russia, being of sound mind…”

Viktor listened to the document with more than a mild disinterest. To refuse to inform him of his father’s death, to refuse to invite him to the funeral, and then to demand his presence at a reading of a will in which he was to receive nothing—only his pride brought him to this meeting. He would be the better person, and he would carry that with him when he finally escaped this hour, this country.

“Section three. Disposition of property. As of this date, November 4, 2015, I have revised the disposition of my property to reflect the following:  All of my belongings, both real and personal, are to be divided evenly among three beneficiaries. First, should I precede him in death, my elder brother Yevraf Ivanovitch Nikiforov. Second, should I precede her in death, my elder sister Irina Ivanovna Nikiforova. Third, should I precede him in death, my son Viktor Andreievitch Nikifor—”

“Excuse me?” Viktor found himself asking. “There must be some mistake.”

The lawyer stopped, flustered by the interruption. “I’m sorry, why should there be a mistake? Is it not normal for a son to inherit from his father?”

“I…” Viktor felt dizzy, and he was glad to be sitting. His aunt and uncle stared hot daggers into his skin. “I was under the impression that I had been disinherited a long time ago. I certainly don’t expect—”

“Be quiet, Vitya,” Yevgraf snapped.

Viktor schooled himself into silence quickly, turned his eyes on the table.

The lawyer looked from Viktor to Yevgraf before returning to the document. “Viktor Andreievitch Nikiforov. To Viktor Andreievitch, I also leave this message: Today, on the anniversary of my wife Oksana’s death, I think about my son and the cruelties inflicted upon him. After much consideration, I have decided that I shall make amends with him, whose crimes are nothing compared to what a familial love should be. Having never known it, my son will likely reject it, and that is to be expected. It will be justly deserved. Viktor Andreievitch, I offer my apologies, should my death arrive in your life before I do. I do not agree with your chosen lifestyle or career, but in your own way, you have truly made Russia proud. As a Russian, I have felt that pride; as your father, I have felt regret.”

The lawyer closed the document into its folder. “This concludes the reading of the will.”

Irina cleared her throat. “For my brother and I to contest it, what is the process?”

Boris, who’d been nearly asleep, sat up. “You want to contest it? Why, Mama?”

Irina bristled. “Your uncle’s money,” she said with a glance toward Viktor, “should stay in the family.”

“I agree,” Yevgraf said. “I would like to contest this will. Viktor Andreievitch had been disinherited, and this version of the will was written in too-close proximity to my brother’s death to be considered admissible.”

The lawyer and every other person in the room now looked to Viktor. “I…don’t know what to say. If Andrei Ivanovitch…should we not respect his wishes? I have no interest in any money, or items, or shareholdings in his company. I will probably sell them immediately. I want nothing to do with his property. However, if he saw fit to include me as a beneficiary, I will accept that, just as I would have accepted it had he not. What I will not accept is being railroaded out of what Andrei Ivanovitch believed was my due just because my aunt and uncle are dissatisfied with the change.” Viktor stood up, hands braced on the tabletop. “If Yevgraf Ivanovitch and Irina Ivanovna decide to contest this will, I do have a legal team on retainer.

Irina stood. “It is such a shame that this stranger who bears our name should come into our family’s time of mourning and swindle us out of our dear brother’s wishes, just by the  _ accident  _ of name. No brother of mine would support a person of this man’s perversion, and I will not have Dyusha’s legacy smeared or destroyed by him.”

Yevgraf also stood, then stepped away from the table. He walked to Viktor. “Vitya, do us all a favor. Renounce your claim on Dyusha’s inheritance. Let us split it as he genuinely intended. Don’t fight us on this.”

Viktor swallowed a lump in his throat and moved around the chair to be closer to the door. Every sponsor negotiation meeting he’d ever been to had prepared him for this, and he could handle it. He could handle the pressure and the posturing. He didn’t need to feel so afraid. He puffed himself up. “Andrei Ivanovitch intended exactly what was written. An attempt at reconciliation with me, his son. If he wants me to inherit, then I intend to inherit. After that, I will take that money and donate it to charity. Perhaps one that will help those of us terrified to live our lives because of our ‘perversions.’”

He flinched, tucked into himself when he saw the familiar coil in Yevgraf’s arm, but years removed from the abuse had slowed his reaction time. Yevgrav’s fist collided with his cheek bone and eye socket; his wedding band on his right ring finger scraped into the corner of his eye below the brow. Viktor fell back, collapsed to the ground. When Yevgraf didn’t attack again, he pulled himself to his feet.

With the confidence and smile of a press-ready world champion, Viktor turned to the lawyer. “My legal team will be in touch with you shortly.”

Yevgraf slapped him again, this time with an open palm. “If you think you can take Dyusha’s money and funnel it toward other faggots like you, you are mistaken. The Russian public will turn on you quickly if your secret gets out, and I do believe that there is plenty of space for an abomination like you to rot away should you go public. Renounce your claim on the inheritance, and you won’t have to face that. Fight this, Viktor Andreievitch, and you will find yourself locked up within a week.”

“My legal team,” Viktor said again through tight teeth, “will be in touch.” He walked out of the door and reached for his phone.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ I need help. _

 

_ To Yakov: _

_ Goodbye. _

 

__

{link}

{ **Athletes Send Love to Viktor Nikiforov After Tragic Loss** }

_ While the messages of condolences from those athletes of other disciplines are already so kind and heartwarming, the real tear-jerking messages came in from fellow skaters. Dozens of his competitors, past and present, have been tweeting at Nikiforov and tagging him across social media. We’ve compiled some of the most heartwarming messages here, with a staff vote for the best, most touching post saved for last. _

**_@bin-cao4_ ** _ @v-nikiforov you are in my thoughts. take time to grieve; see you at worlds :) _

**_@anya_radidance_ ** _ @v-nikiforov You’re in my and Georgi’s prayers. We’ll take you out to dinner, and you can tell us about your dad if you want. Take care of yourself _

**_y-plisetsky_ ** _ I don’t have any relatives in St. Petersburg, and Viktor has always treated me like a brother. I know I’m not nice, but he acts like it doesn’t bother him and just helps me with my skating so that I can totally take him down when I make my senior debut. He’s family for me, and I’m really pissed off and upset for him right now. @v-nikiforov, see you when you get home. _

**_mila-babe_ ** _ My heart is totally aching right now for Viktor. He’s such a fun and kind person, a great rink mate, and an absolute genius on the ice. My fans know that my dad is sick, and I am terrified of losing him while I’m at a competition. It’s literally my worst fear, and it happened to Viktor. It really hurts me to see him so torn up, but what hurts more is knowing that a large part of that is because of the way his relatives handled the situation. I don’t know why they chose not to call immediately, or why they chose to hold the service so quickly, but Viktor was deprived of the chance of proper closure, and that is just wrong. So please, for future reference, don’t hide important things from the people you love because you think it might be better for them! It’s rude and it’s terrible, and Viktor didn’t deserve that! _

**_g-popovich_ ** _ v-nikiforov and I have known each other for many years, but it’s only recently that I can say we’ve truly been able to become friends. I met his father once, and only once, when we were still teenagers. My impression of him was that he was a very stern man, but he supported Viktor’s decisions regarding his skating career, and for Viktor, that has always been the most important thing in his life. I will be there for you, Viktor, if and when you want to talk about this. I have your back. _

**_Christophe-G_ ** _ How do I explain Viktor Nikiforov? He is one of my closest friends, but even after a decade of friendship, I discover new facets of his character frequently. Viktor doesn’t deserve to have something like this happen to him. Shame on his relatives, especially his uncle Yevgraf, for failing to include him in their services for Andrei. Viktor is a very caring person, very loving, and to be treated this way has got to be hurting him a good deal more than he’s going to show. Viktor, you are welcome to take time for yourself. You are welcome to take time to mourn if you want it. You are allowed to feel pain, to be upset, at the way you were treated by your relatives. This—none of this—is fair to you. You can call me any time, don’t even look at time zones. _

**_phichit+chu_ ** _ Hi, um, this isn’t Phichit, it’s actually Yuuri…Katuski Yuuri. All of my accounts, except the YouTube channel with Vitya, is set to super private because anxiety, but I wanted to post something, and I didn’t want to turn the channel into a vlog without talking about that with Vitya first. So instead of opening up my private account (which, I never post anyway, so you aren’t missing anything), Phichit is letting me post here on his IG. I already talked to Vitya a few times, and he’s…upset…but I believe he’ll be okay :). So, thank you to all of his friends and fans! I am a huge fan of him! It’s still blowing my mind that he’s also a fan of me? And that he wants to talk to me? And be friends? with? me? but somehow, we’ve gotten really close. I guess that happens when you save somebody’s life…Vitya is brave and Vitya is strong, so Vitya will be okay. I have faith in him. I will *always* be there for him like he is always there for me. Vitya’s heart is beautiful and compassionate, and this event is going to hurt for a while, but he will survive and grow and thrive eventually. I believe in him. Vitya, all you have to do is call  <3. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 4, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ You haven’t seen any of my texts for the past twelve hours and I’m getting nervous _

_ Vitya, where are you? _

 

_ To Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ Vitya’s not answering his phone _

_ Has he contacted you? _

_ I am worried. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Please I hope your phone is just dead _

_ Please tell me you left your charger in Slovakia _

_ Please tell me you’re getting a new one at a convenience store or something _

_ Vitya, please _

_ I am worried _

_ Please answer me. _

_ Please? _

 

_ From Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ I just tried calling him; no answer _

_ I’ve been worried about him since he found out about his father _

 

_ To Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ Did it seem like he was at risk to do anything dangerous? _

 

_ From Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ No, but he wasn’t himself at all _

_ At least, he wasn’t the exterior shell of himself that he usually is. _

_ Have you tried Georgi? _

 

_ To Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ I don’t have his number _

_ I don’t really know him, either _

_ It’s probably just nothing, too, right? _

_ Vitya was upset one day that I stopped texting, but I wrecked my phone _

_ Maybe he wrecked his phone? _

 

_ From Christophe (Switzerland): _

_ I hope for all our sakes that Viktor’s just having a problem with his phone. _

_ …  _

_ Georgi says he’s taken care of it. _

 

 

{link}

{ **FIVE REASONS WHY VIKTOR NIKIFOROV AND YUURI KATSUKI SHOULD BE DATING IF THEY AREN’T** }

FIRST—they are both really adorable when the other one is brought up. Do you remember that time Yuuri-kun said that Viktor was an inspiration to him in an interview three years ago? Here’s a picture: {image: a younger Yuuri blushing and tugging on the cuffs of his jacket sleeves}. That precious bean has had some kind of crush on Viktor for years, clearly. Even three years ago he was already smitten. But it’s not just a one-sided thing. Look at Viktor in this picture: {image: a slightly younger Viktor with a frown on his face and a hand in the air}. That’s the only time most people remember Viktor getting upset in an interview. The question had to do with the Four Continents results that year, and Viktor said that he felt like ‘the skater from Japan’ aka our Yuuri-kun was ridiculously underscored. He’s said it several times since then, that he thinks Yuuri-kun is underscored (he’s not the only one; I wrote it up here before). Even before they  met, they were both already obsessed with each other.

SECOND—Gay rights powerhouse. Think about it. If they were dating, they could be a super powerful vehicle for change in Japan and in Russia. Did you know that gay marriage is illegal in both of those countries? That’s just horrible! Downright barbaric! Everyone loves Viktor, and everyone loves Yuuri-kun, and we would all love them together, so the adorableness of their relationship would literally cure homophobia. Guaranteed. (and before you get all snippy at me, I do know that Viktor has never once said he was gay and that he’s also had girlfriends in the past, but hey, who knows what his sexuality is; that could just be biphobia, and that’s not cool. Besides, we’re talking about Katsuki Yuuri here. You have to be completely asexual to not feel anything for that gorgeous man. I am a lesbian, and I am affected. Lesbian.).

THIRD—They would have such stable lives together. Yuuri-kun is about to be a college grad, and I hear he’s going to eventually go for a doctorate after he retires from skating, so he’ll be Dr. Katsuki, and Viktor is super wealthy. And now that his business-mogul father has passed away, he’s probably set to inherit millions. I bet they wouldn’t be super lavish about their lives, though. I bet they’d buy a nice house in the San Joaquin Valley and start charities or donate to already-existing ones, and they’d have dogs, and it would just be so cute and everything I want in the world.

FOURTH—Can you imagine the kind of sex two super hot, internationally competitive athletes would have with each other? Imagine it. Such hot sex. They both deserve that in their lives, don’t you think??

FIFTH—This isn’t a crack ship; they genuinely care about each other. Yuuri has gone on record a couple of times to say that Viktor saved his life in Sochi, and if that’s not the seed of true love, I don’t know what is. They started a YouTube channel together with a ridiculously cute ship name (Viktuuri!), and they’re posting videos about how they feel and sharing them with each other and the whole world. And when Viktor found out his father died, his first reaction was that he wanted to talk to Yuuri. It’s really beautiful to see the way they’re supporting each other. Viktor’s post about Yuuri on his Instagram is already classic, but Yuuri’s hijacking of Phichit’s IG is just about the best thing I have ever seen. He ended it in a heart! If they’re not totally in love already, it’ll be just a matter of time!!  

 

 

 

 

 

**February 4, 2016, Late Evening – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri was panicking and he wasn’t calming down. Phichit tried not to panic as well, tried not to escalate the situation. He gently grabbed Yuuri’s hands. “Let’s go sit down on the couch, okay? We don’t need to stay in the kitchen.”

Phichit followed where Yuuri’s eyes darted to the drawer with the knives, watched the shudder of revulsion pass through his friend’s body. Yuuri followed him limply to the couch, hyperventilating and wobbling on his feet the entire way.

“Good,” Phichit said. He released a deep breath. No more blood. All he could ask for in life was to never see blood like he’d seen again. He wasn’t a stranger to blood; skating involved accidents and injuries more than he liked to admit, but Phichit was pain-averse. He had a low tolerance for it on a good day, and only his love for the ice was stronger than his need to avoid pain. With his hands free, Yuuri began to scratch at his scar. “Nope,” Phichit said. He held Yuuri’s hands. “Okay, five thinking hats. Can we do that? Will that help?” Yuuri nodded, and Phichit helped guide him through the connections with his senses, the things he saw, what he could feel. “Alright, last one. One positive thing about yourself, Yuuri.”

“I—I’m…I don’t know, Phichit.” Yuuri sighed. “I’m trying?”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Yes, trying is a good thing. Yes. I will accept that this time, but you know that means you need to come up with something different next time. Okay? There are a lot of positive things about you, and you need to find them.”

“Viktor is missing, Phi. I…I’m scared. I—” Yuuri was interrupted by a sudden burst of sharp knocking on their apartment door.

Phichit jumped up to get it, practically skipped to reach the entryway faster. When he pulled the door open, his jaw dropped open and he gasped.

“Please, I need Yuuri,” Viktor stood in the doorway, two suitcases beside him. His hair was wild and his eyes unfocused, half of his face was black and blue. “He said if…if I ever needed, I could…please.”

Yuuri could see the doorway from the couch, and the moment Phichit moved aside to let Viktor in, he was already running and jumping into the Russian man’s arms. Phichit pulled the suitcases into the apartment and closed the door behind it. There in the entryway, Viktor buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder and without any words of explanation, began to cry. 


	18. Chapter 18

**February 5, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

Viktor sat on the toilet seat in Yuuri’s bathroom while Yuuri cleaned the cut next to his eye for the second time. The night before, once his crying had finally slowed to a stop, Yuuri had done the same work, carefully clearing off the dried blood that had crusted around the wound which clearly bore the shape of his uncle’s wedding band. After Yuuri had treated the cut, they’d sat on the couch until Viktor fell asleep. He’d woken up stiff and contorted when Phichit came through the living room to shower at six in the morning.

“You know this is infected now, right?” Yuuri said. He was wearing pajama pants with light blue stripes, and Viktor tried not to focus too intensely on the soft peak of morning wood in between Yuuri’s legs. The reality of where he was, who he was with…he was in the same room as Yuuri, in a country where their legal rights were protected. Yuuri was scolding him, _scolding him_ . “The first thing you should’ve done was clean it and ice it. Not pack your bags. That could’ve been second. Or third, after you _texted me_ , Vitya.”

Viktor hissed at the sting of the peroxide. “I know,” he said. “I know. I just wanted to take the next available flight, and I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“Stop twitching. You’re acting like you’ve never had a cut before.”

“I can’t see what you’re doing,” he said.

Yuuri stroked the other side of his face with his left hand. “I don’t know how you can see anything with this eye, Vitya. I think it’s even more swollen now than when you got here last night. We should be icing it.”

“Sorry,” Viktor said. “I didn’t think about it. Or much of anything, really. I just knew I needed to get here.”

Quietness grew between them while Yuuri finished cleansing the cut and covering it in Neosporin. Once the ointment was applied, he disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a cold pack wrapped in paper towels. He held the pack to the swollen eye and ran his fingers through Viktor’s hair, placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I was worried about you,” he whispered into the hair. “I was afraid you—”

“I thought about it,” Viktor took over holding the pack, “but I wanted to see you.”

Yuuri washed his hands and pulled Viktor to his feet. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, dropped his cheek onto Viktor’s chest. “I wanted to see you, too.” He kissed Viktor’s collarbone through his shirt, then released the hug. He led Viktor by the hand from the bathroom to his bedroom. “Sorry it’s a little messy,” he said. “I haven’t done laundry in a couple of weeks. I would’ve let you sleep in here last night, but you completely passed out on the couch, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Viktor took in the room around him with his right eye. It was small, a bed and a chest of drawers along one wall, a desk along the opposite. The desk chair was covered in clothing, and there was a hamper by the foot of the bed that looked to be mostly full. Above the desk, he saw… “Katsuki Yuuri. Would you like me to sign that for you?”

Yuuri blushed and groaned. “Oh my god. I can take it down. It’s the only one I have here, I swear.”

“Here? You mean you have more somewhere else?”

“It is too early in the morning for this.”

“It’s not that early. Normally, I’d be at the rink by now, and your housemate is already gone. The sun is starting to rise outside. There are probably birds chirping. It’s not that early. I want to know about the other posters.”

“Fine.” Yuuri sat on the edge of his bed, invited Viktor to do the same. Viktor sat flush against him, slipped his foot in between Yuuri’s ankles. “So,” Yuuri said, “I have no idea what it’s like now, if my parents might be using that room for anything or not, but when I left Hasetsu, I think I had nineteen posters of you? And a framed picture. It’s…I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?” Viktor put the ice pack on the floor and placed his cold hand on Yuuri’s thigh. “I wish I had posters of you. Maybe I should buy some.”

Yuuri squirmed under the icy touch. “Why would you even want that?”

“To jerk off when you’re not around?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Isn’t that what you do?”

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed red. “Ye—well, not alwa—no—you know what, yes. I’m not even going to pretend. That is entirely why I bought that poster. Not that it’s a good poster of the best figure skater in the world, or that I was trying to motivate myself to make it to that level, or that I just really enjoy that person. I bought that poster to masturbate, and no other reason at all. None. Nope. None.”

“If I could see you in my peripherals, I think you’d be rolling your eyes at me.”

“You think?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask, you know.”

“But it’s better if I do,” he said. Viktor pulled Yuuri’s face toward his, pressed their lips together. Firmly, he pressed again, teased the soft crevice between Yuuri’s upper and lower lip with his tongue. Yuuri leaned into it

“Wait,” Viktor said, breaking away. “When do you have rink time today? And classes? Anything?”

“I have my appointment this afternoon with Dr. Kyper, and what time is it?”

Viktor checked his phone, noticed it was still on airplane mode and at six percent battery. “It’s four in St. Petersburg?”

Yuuri squinted while he mentally adjusted the time zone. “I guess I’m supposed to be at the rink in an hour. I probably shouldn’t skip it, you know. Since Four Continents is next week. I can be late, though. Celestino won’t mind. Well, he might mind…he just won’t be surprised?”

“Are you always late for practice?”

“No, no. Only on bad days. But I think he’d forgive me today, since you just got here last night and you can’t see anything out of your left eye.”

“I can see things! It’s not that bad. Don’t make that face; I’m not lying.”

Yuuri shuffled onto the bed and lay down on the side along the wall. He tapped the empty space next to him, and Viktor stretched out. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or why you didn’t even text to say you were coming? I could’ve cleaned shit up or something if I’d known.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It’s a little bit my fault,” Viktor said. He looked away from Yuuri. “I might have pushed him a little. So, I went to a reading of my father’s will, and he left some money to me. And a note that said he wanted to reconcile, not that he really did. He changed his will in November; it’s not like he changed it last week and then died the next day. It doesn’t matter. I think he just wanted to annoy his siblings. There’s no way he actually wanted…no…anyway, my aunt and uncle both announced that they wanted to contest the will, and I might have said I wouldn’t back down and that I was going to donate my entire inheritance to gay rights? So, of course my uncle hit me. What? It’s not like it’s never happened before. I shouldn’t have goaded him like that.”

Yuuri didn’t reply right away; he took a moment to gather his thoughts while he played with Viktor’s hand. “I love you, but you’re kind of a hypocrite. You’re always telling me that the messes I make of my sex life aren’t my fault and that those people have hurt me, but here you are taking the blame for something that’s clearly not your fault. Fuck you, Nikiforov.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “I know. Me being a hypocrite doesn’t mean what happened to you wasn’t wrong.”

“I know,” Yuuri said. “I just—I don’t like thinking of myself that way. It’s…some of the guys I’ve fooled around with are really good people. And it’s not like I’ve forgotten every single time it’s ever happened. Pres was bad. I know that. He’s…still an ass, by the way…I think he’s asked me out like four times since the party. And he _knows_ I have a boyfriend now. Hey, it’s not like I’m going to say yes.”

“Can I punch him?”

“No. You of all people should know that violence doesn’t solve anything, Vitya.”

Viktor sighed. “I know, Yuu-tan.” Yuuri blushed and began giggling. “What? What’s so funny? This was a serious conversation three seconds ago.” Viktor rolled toward Yuuri and propped himself up on with his elbow.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said. He reached up to kiss Viktor’s cheek. “I just…if my sister ever finds out I asked you to call me that, she’s never going to let me live it down. She’s going to harass me about it until the day I die.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Yuuri sat up, “No! No, never. Please don’t. It’s silly, but it’s—I want it. If I’d never lived in the US, I don’t think I’d have ever wanted something like that. Most people in Japan will go by their family names in most circumstances, so using a given name is already considered intimate, but here, everyone uses given names as the default. And I wanted…I feel like just ‘Yuuri’ is too plain now, since that’s what everyone here calls me all the time. I guess I’ve just been too Americanized, wanting a cutesy nickname... _Ne_ , do you want to come to the rink with me later?”

“I’d like to, but I don’t…I need to call my lawyers…I didn’t have time…I have all the same things I took to Europeans with me. I didn’t have time to repack. I didn’t get to see Makkachin; she’s still at the kennel until Georgi can pick her up for me on Monday. I just knew I had to get out of there before Yevgraf…he said he could get rid of me, and I remembered what you sent me from the Wikipedia page, and…I was scared. So, I left as fast as I could.”

“I…I’m glad you chose to come here,” Yuuri said before he kissed him, a soft touch that grew into tongue and teeth. Viktor slid onto his back, and Yuuri followed, curling on top of him. “I think,” Yuuri broke away and placed his hand on Viktor’s stomach near the bottom edge of his shirt, “that there’s something I’d like to do, if you’re interested.”

Viktor swallowed, mouth dry. The weight of Yuuri’s hand, the pressure of Yuuri’s pelvis against his hip. “I think that whatever you’re thinking, I am interested. I am very interested.” He hissed when Yuuri’s hand began undoing the fly of the jeans he’s been wearing for far too long. He shuddered when Yuuri’s hand plunged under the edge of the briefs he’d been wearing just as long as the jeans. He nearly cried at Yuuri’s first experimental tug of his penis.

Yuuri pulled it again, twice more, ran his thumb over the slit in small circles. “Okay,” he said, “I have some lube and we could just…go with hands…since we’ve never done anything in person…but I was thinking…you know, I am really, really good at sucking cock.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 6, 2016, Mid-Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

“I _can_ see, you know,” Viktor said. “You don’t have to guide me like I’m blind.” Yuuri held onto Viktor’s elbow and led him through the rink’s main entrance. He wished he could grab his hand, but Viktor wasn’t sure yet whether or not he would have to go back to Russia, and Yuuri didn’t want to potentially cause a problem. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to lose all physical contact when they were finally together in person.

He nodded, but didn’t let go of the elbow. He could feel the eyes of the rink staff suddenly on them, and he led Viktor toward the locker room quickly. “The swelling _has_ gone down a lot since yesterday, yes. How does it feel?”

They sat on a bench near Yuuri’s locker. “It hurts. How does your arm feel?”

“It hurts.” Yuuri gripped Viktor’s elbow still, consciously trying to avoid scratching at the scar.

Viktor took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Are you going to be okay for Four Continents?”

“Yeah. I should be fine. Especially if I don’t have any more psychotic breaks. It takes most people two months to go through benzo withdrawal, and that’s almost over. I haven’t had any major incidents since…well…this…” Yuuri waved his arm in front of them, “so hopefully the worst has passed. I can’t wait for her to say I’m completely in the clear. I really want to get back to where I was before all this happened.”

Viktor nodded. “I can understand that, I think. You were doing well before the GPF, weren’t you?”

“I…not as well as I could’ve been, but better than the past couple of months. After everything that happened with Pres last year, I kind of shut people out for a while.”

“You’re using his name a lot more these days. You used to just call him Lacrosse Guy.”

Yuuri wilted and leaned away from Viktor. “Sorry,” he said. “I just keep seeing him around. I dunno. You think he assaulted me, Ketty thinks he was abusive, but I just…he’s a douche, don’t get me wrong, but…he’s still a person, isn’t he? I don’t want to forgive him or hook up with him or anything, and I did tell this freshman that he’s bad news, but…I feel guilty about it.”

Viktor picked up Yuuri’s hands and held them. “I feel guilty, too. With what happened in my family. I feel like it’s my fault most of the time. I know that it’s not, but I feel like it is. They—my parents were abusive. My uncle and aunt are abusive. Your ex-fling guy man-child, also abusive.”

Yuuri turned back toward Viktor and sniff back a tear. He laughed, “We are so fucked up. Like, seriously fucked up. Okay, let’s…let’s just go ask Ciao-Ciao about you using the rink while you’re here.”

“Okay.” They pulled each other to their feet.

Yuuri led Viktor out of the locker room and toward Celestino’s office. The light inside was dim, though, and Yuuri groaned in frustration. “I totally forgot that he’s got skaters right now. I guess he’s on the ice. Come on.” He grabbed Viktor’s hand and began pulling him down the hall. Two turns later, and they entered the rink.

Celestino had Phichit helping him work with a handful of junior skaters on their triples, but all action stopped on the ice when one of the juniors noticed Yuuri and Viktor. Yuuri tugged Viktor up to the boards, and Celestino skated over to them while Phichit tried and failed to get the juniors to focus on their jumps.

“Hi, Celestino!” Viktor said, his brightest media grin painted on his face.

The Italian coach looked them over, and Yuuri was suddenly hyper aware of the eyes on them. He let go of Viktor’s hand and began fidgeting his thumbs. “Hi, Coach. Um. I mentioned it yesterday, but…um…”

“I hope you’re icing that eye,” Celestino said.

“Yuuri’s taking good care of me, don’t worry.”

Celestino nodded. “You’ll be wanting to practice while you’re in town, I assume?”

“I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” Viktor said. “But if you need any help with anything, and I’d be more than willing to pay for time when there’s nothing else booked, of course. I…I don’t know how long…it’s…there’s…”

Celestino reached across the boards and put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “I read once that only fifteen percent of black eyes are caused by violence. I know how you like to be exceptional, though. Go get your skates on, both of you, and come show these juniors a thing or to. We can talk schedules later. I’m assuming you’ll be working with Yakov remotely, but if you want any suggestions, we can work that out later, too. Welcome to Detroit, Viktor.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 6, 2016, Late Night – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov Disappears from Saint Petersburg; Spotted in Heathrow with a Black Eye** }

_Just two days after arriving in back in Saint Petersburg from winning his seventh consecutive European Championship, skating superstar Viktor Nikiforov was nowhere to be found. After news of Nikiforov’s father’s death spread, reporters flocked to his home rink, hoping to get an inside look at his highly private life outside of skating. Coach Yakov Feltsman turned them away, stating that Nikiforov was taking a few days off and requesting that the press not bother him. Around the same time, a fan posted a picture [right] of what appears to be Nikiforov waiting at the international terminal in London’s Heathrow airport. Some fans were skeptical, because the man in the picture is sporting a swollen and scabbed black eye, but a quick facial analysis reveals that the black-eyed man is indeed Nikiforov. It is unknown where in the world Nikiforov went from Heathrow, but he didn’t return to Russia and neither his coach nor his rink mates will confirm a destination. We have to wonder, what happened in those days while Nikiforov was in his hometown after Euros that left him with such a bruise?_

 

The keys to the rink rattled in Yuuri’s pocket while he changed back into his skates. Viktor tied his own laces slowly; all it had taken was a text in order to receive permission to skate at this hour, and Viktor kept staring wide-eyed at Yuuri. “I can’t believe they just let you come whenever you want. It’s amazing.”

“I run the Zamboni when I’m done, so it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Still, how did you get them to agree to that? I don’t even have keys to my home rink, and I’ve been skating there since I was ten.”

“Really? Skating was always something…when I was younger, if I was having a really bad day with anxiety, I’d either dance it out in Minako-sensei’s studio or drag her to Ice Castle so I could skate. The Nishigoris gave me a key there when I was thirteen, and Minako-sensei gave me a key to her studio when I was ten. I do have to let Ciao-Ciao and the rink manager know when I come here at night, and they don’t like it when I come completely alone. I usually bring Phichit, but I’ve had the keys for two years now.”

“You must have been a trustworthy child.”

“Helps if you don’t have any friends outside of the rink owner’s son and his girlfriend, I guess. When they found out I’d had a perfect record with the Nishigoris and never once injured myself with late-night skating, they told me I could have copies of the keys if I signed a contract saying I wouldn’t do anything dangerous and I would let them know before I got here. The lights are over there.” Yuuri pointed to a panel of switches, and Viktor flipped four of them until the rink where they’d been practicing just a few hours before lit up.

They skated without direction for a while, loops around the edge of the rink, an impromptu spin contest, attempts at ice dance that ended with them colliding into the wall. Yuuri began to feel a tickle of anxiety asking him _why you? why here? why now? there’s nothing special about you and you are about to fuck this up and then no more Viktor, he’ll go back to Russia, he’ll choose Russia, Russia with all of its homophobic laws and homophobic relatives, he’ll still choose Russia_ —when Yuuri’s mind turned there, he started skating school figures. Viktor fell in beside him, skating the same lines and patterns that were never tested in competition anymore. When half an hour passed, Yuuri saw Viktor and spooked, skipping a few inches off of the ice. “You startled me,” he said, hand clutched over his heart.

Viktor drew closer to Yuuri. “Sorry, love,” he said with a soft kiss to Yuuri’s forehead.  “Do you often skate figures like that?”

Yuuri blushed and nodded. “Sometimes, if it’s a bad night, I’ll come and skate figures for hours. The time I had hypothermia—I just couldn’t get my mind to stop, so I kept skating. By the time I stopped, it was almost five in the morning, and I was too tired to go back to my apartment or even shower in the locker room. I fell asleep right over there,” he pointed to a bench at the bottom of the stands on the right side of the rink. “I was still covered in sweat, so it was a really bad idea. I had to relinquish my keys for a month. It’s the only time I’ve ever done something stupid at any rink after hours, though.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun. But I can see how you’ve turned that into being the best in the world with steps and spins.”

“I’m really not the best, though. Yours are better, Chris’s are better. That Canadian kid with the rock band is better.”

“Nope, not true. None of it. You’re rolling your eyes again,” Viktor said. Yuuri rolled his eyes once more, and Viktor pulled himself closer to Yuuri. With his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s shoulders, he bumped their foreheads together before drawing him into a kiss. They stood on the ice, lips pressed and moving. Minutes passed before Yuuri pulled away.

“So, you wanted to film a video for the channel?”

“Mmhmm. I thought about it a lot on the flight over here, and no matter what happens with the will and the inheritance, people are still bound to ask me questions about the situation. I…I don’t want the world to know everything, but you—you took control of your story with your first routine on the channel, and I thought, maybe that’s the only way to come out ahead on this.”

“You already have a song?”

“The only song it could be.” They skated toward the exit, and Viktor picked up his phone, quickly bringing up the track.

 

{link}

{[ **P!nk – Family Portrait** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSjIz8oQuko)}


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up a few hours later than usual! It has been a very long, very stressful day and it honestly slipped my mind until 11:30 pm that it was Thursday and thus, time to post. I feel like the week has disappeared.
> 
> Love you all!

**February 8, 2016, Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov, “Family Portrait”** }

{icon image: Viktor on the ice mid-spin at Detroit Skate Club in all-black training gear}

100,097 Views

 

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published February 6, 2016

Video description:

This is a song that meant a lot to me when I was growing up. The album came out very shortly after my mother died in November of 2001. I was still in the hospital, and one of my older rink mates bought me a copy because she thought I would like it. I listened to it over and over again while I was healing, but my father disapproved of pop music, so I wasn’t allowed to keep the disc at home after I was released. I kept it at the rink, and my first year in Juniors, Yakov let me do my exhibition to “Get the Party Started.” This is the song by her that has always meant the most to me, because my parents had just begun the process of divorce when my mother died, and things were very tense most of the time before she passed.

 

11,709 Comments

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**Holly Jolly Man** 2 days ago Is this the first time Nikiforov has ever made any public statement about his family ever? It’s kind of depressing. His mom dying is hard enough, but knowing things were bad between his parents…it’s like, you don’t expect that when you watch him skate.

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**niliforv** 2 days ago Holly Jolly Man dead parents are rough at any age, but especially for kids, you know. No wonder he’s never talked about it in interviews.

**shut your eyes kiss me goodbye** 1 day ago Holly Jolly Man this isn’t technically the first time he’s made a public statement. There used to be a video floating around from when he was a junior skater, and a reporter asked if his mom was proud, and he said something that was basically like, “Uh she’s dead, so probably not?” and when the reporter told him he was sorry to hear that, kid Viktor said something like “I’m just glad I can skate,” and it made no sense, so the reporter ended the interview.

 

**Viktuuri is Real** 1 day ago HOW COME NO ONE IS TALKING ABOUT THE FACT THAT HE IS IN DETROIT??? THAT IS DETROIT SKATE CLUB!!! HE IS WITH YUURI!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, PEOPLE, VIKTUURI IS DEFINITELY REAL!!!!!!

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**Broseph and Barry** 1 day ago Viktuuri is Real I HYPERVENTILATED NO LIE THIS IS SO FUCKING IMPORTANT! Seriously, where did Viktor go when he was dealing with something difficult? Straight to Detroit. Yuuri Freaking Katsuki. THIS HAS GOT TO BE A REAL COUPLE, DAMMIT.

**yaoi on fire** 19 hours ago Viktuuri is Real AAAAH AAAAAH AAAAAH I CANT EVEN WITH THIS ITS SO FUCKING CUTE THAT HE WENT TO SEE YUURI WHEN HE WAS UPSET AAAAAAAH

 

**egads bad dads** 2 days ago Has anyone else here seen that Kid Viktor video where he’s like, thirteen and totally nonchalant about his mom being dead? I think that reporters just knew to not ask about it after that, and it became a taboo subject. I would love to see him to a Q&A where he talks about his (obviously difficult) childhood.

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**Bright Eyes is Life** 2 days ago egads bad dads I think your username is appropriate. What kind of dad keeps his kid from listening to music, just because it’s pop? I don’t get it.

**Mama Bear Kathy** 1 days ago Bright Eyes is Life there are lots of good reasons for a parent to shield their child from certain genres of music for the benefit/well-being of the child. I don’t let my children listen to anything explicit, anything about drugs or with graphic depictions of sex. Pink would be a no-go in my house; this song wouldn’t be off-limits, but she has plenty of songs that are about sex and drugs, including on that album that Viktor is referencing. I wouldn’t let my kids buy that! You can’t blame a parent for protecting their kid!

 

**My Ish is Banana-nut Bread** 1 day ago Guys stop, EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY than the fact that Viktor Nikiforov actually said something about his family and it turns out IT’S ALL SHITTY, and also EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY than the fact that he’s in Detroit and clearly with Yuuri-kun, EVEN MORE IMPORTANTLY than all of that—WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO HIS FUCKING EYE?!?!?!?!?! I NEED TO KNOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

View all 347 replies

**Noticing Senpai Noticing You** 1 day ago My Ish is Banana-nut Bread I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!!! LIKE? NOTHING? ON? THE? EYE? WHAT GIVES AND WHAT HAPPENED??? WHO PUNCHED HIM??????

**Amtrak Lackey** 14 hours ago My Ish is Banana-nut Bread most black eyes happen as the result of accidents. He could’ve run into something in the dark, tripped and whacked his face on a wall or a table corner, anything really. It’s a movie stereotype that black eyes are a result of being punched. I mean, that’s what would happen if you got punched in the eye, but like less than a fifth of all black eyes are a result of fighting. Most people do something stupid and end up with their face meeting a doorknob.

 

 

Phichit’s torso moved away from the camera to reveal his face. “And we’re live! Hi, internet!” He waved into the camera and plopped into his seat in a diner booth. “We’re here at Diner 95, and this is Viktor Nikiforov’s first time eating poutine! To my right, we have the lovely Ketty Abelashvilli, and across the way, you know them, since it’s their channel: Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki! And I’m your host for tonight—”

Yuuri hid his face in his hands. “Do we really have to do this live?”

Phichit faked a gasp. “Viktor has never had poutine before, Yuuri. We have to document it. Think of the _fans_.”

Ketty smiled and said, “You’re the one who suggested turning your YouTube channel into a vlog instead of just skating videos.”

“Shut up. I hate you all. Why do we have to go  _ live _ for it?”

“You hate me least, right, Yuuri?” Viktor poked his side.

Yuuri whacked his finger. “Stop that. Yes, I hate you least, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate you.”

“Yuuri, I am shocked and offended,” Phichit placed his hand over his heart. “You’ve known me for how many years, and you hate Viktor the least?”

“I hate Viktor the least because Viktor doesn’t put Frau Blücher in the pink running ball and let her loose in the bathroom while I’m in the shower.”

“No fair. That was Mongo, and he was in the orange running ball.”

“It was Frau Blücher in the pink.”

“It was Mongo.”

“Blücher.”

“The way I remember it,” Ketty interrupted, “it was Blinkin in the blue. I have the texts to prove it.”

“This happened two years ago,” Yuuri said. “I don’t even have the same phone from two  _ weeks _ ago.”

“You destroyed your phone,” Phichit said. “In a disgustingly epic—”

“I remember that,” Viktor said. “It was a lonely day. No Yuuri all day long. I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”

“You’ve had a deprived life, Nikiforov,” Yuuri turned his upper body to look at Viktor, rested his elbow on the table and his head on the palm of his hand. “I mean, you’ve competed in Skate Canada four times and you’ve never had poutine.”

Viktor shrugged. “We shouldn’t be eating it now. It’s so many carbs and fats and  _ oils _ . Training diet, Yuuri.”

“This is why you win gold all the time and I don’t,” Yuuri said. He turned in his seat to face the table and crossed his arms. “Besides, training diet my ass. You hardly touched anything yesterday.”

“I sat in your apartment all day talking with my lawyers. You weren’t even there. How would you know what I ate or didn’t eat?”

“Don’t underestimate Yuuri’s categorical knowledge of everything that’s in our fridge,” Phichit said. “He cooked half of it, so he knows.”

“More like China Star cooked half of it,” Ketty said. “Or the kitchen staff here. Or me.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Can we not? And we haven’t had a single Ketty-meal in the fridge in months. Don’t take that credit.”

“Not my fault you stopped talking to me because of a shitty composition.”

“It’s not a shitty composition. I think you captured me quite well.”

“The entire thing is weak and lackluster. It’s underwhelming to listen to at best, and I completely fucked it up.”

“Weak, lackluster and underwhelming are like, my defining attributes.”

“What does ‘lackluster’ mean?” Viktor asked.

“It means that Yuuri is undervaluing himself,” Ketty said.

“It means that Ketty is unfairly holding me to a higher standard of self-assessment than herself,” Yuuri shot back.

Viktor looked from one to the other before turning to Phichit. “I feel like I’m out of the loop.”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri said.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ketty said, her words tripping over Yuuri’s.

“Well,” Phichit cleared his throat and looked into the camera. “Here’s the thing. Yuuri wanted to use an original piece for his free skate this year, but Ciao-Ciao turned it down because he didn’t think it was strong enough. Ketty composed the piece, and Yuuri felt so guilty that Ciao-Ciao didn’t want to use it that he stopped talking to Ketty because he thought Ketty  _ must _ hate him,  _ of course _ . Ketty didn’t hate him, but she thought that Yuuri was pissed at her for writing such a, in her own words, ‘shitty composition’ when he’d asked her to write something that reflected him and his skating career. She felt guilty for not giving him something he could use, and she thought he was mad, so she didn’t want to make him more upset by trying to fix things. And then they spent all summer and all fall semester avoiding each other like the pair of idiots they actually are.”

“Stop, Phichit. Why. No. Must you?”

“I must, Yuuri, I must. The truth will set you free.” Phichit refocused on Viktor, “So, you see, they were in a real bind until New Year’s, when Ketty rescued him from paparazzi and they made up over a plate of poutine at this very diner. Diner 95 is legendary, and it has the best poutine this side of the border. Ketty’s Canadian, she would know.”

“I just want my gravy fries,” Ketty said into the table. “Nice, hot, gravy fries and cheesy curdy goodness. We ordered twenty minutes ago.”

Viktor looked at the time on his phone. “We ordered seven minutes ago.”

She shot him a quick glare, then redirected it toward Yuuri. “I hate you.”

“I knew it. I hate you, too. We can stew together in a steaming bowl of hate. I hear the bottom is lined with bad footwear and jeans without pockets.”

Ketty slapped a hand down onto the table just loud enough to create a punctuating thunk, but not loud enough to disturb anyone in their vicinity. “You’re a guy; you get pockets on your jeans.”

Yuuri coughed, blushed and looked away from Ketty while Phichit started laughing. “You don’t know,” Phichit said through his giggles. “Oh my god, this is the best day. Well, Ketty and the internet, just for your information…Yuuri buys most of his jeans in the women’s department.”

Viktor blushed. “The women’s department? That’s…interesting to know.” He looked at Yuuri, who began shifting in his seat under the scrutiny.

“They look good, okay,” Yuuri said, his face still red. “They look good, and they make my ass look good, and I don’t have a lot to work with, so I take advantage of what I can. Besides, the gendering of clothing is kind of ridiculous. I get that most men have narrow hips and most women have wider hips, and so women’s jeans are often cut differently than men’s jeans, but not all women have super wide hips and not all men have perfectly straight lines like Vitya does, and it just seems silly to me that if I want a pair of jeans that works really well on my body, I have to shop for women’s clothing, but here we are. And it seems extra stupid that so many women have to put up with such  _ ridiculous pockets _ . You know those black skinny jeans I wore to the GSA party last fall? The pockets on those things are completely fake. It’s ridiculous and stupid and oh my god, I’m ranting. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry. Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Viktor said, “it was a good rant. And you’re right, your jeans look good on you. I disagree with the idea that you don’t have a lot to work with, because everyone agrees that you have the best ass on the ice, but you are not wrong about your pants selection. I approve. Also, my lines aren’t perfectly straight. You know this.”

“Have you ever even  _ looked _ at yourself naked?”

“I have this specific curve right here,” Viktor poked Yuuri in the side, causing the younger man to jump.

“Ah! Stop.”

Viktor laughed. “Sorry. Are you ticklish?”

“We’re literally live on the internet right now. Can you not?”

“Sorry, Yuuri. I will not.”

In the silence that fell, a waiter arrived and placed two large orders of poutine at the table, centered one between Viktor and Ketty and the other between Phichit and Yuuri. Yuuri and Phichit rotated the plates so that they were next to each other in the center of the table, one between Viktor and Yuuri, the other between Ketty and Phichit. Viktor picked up his fork.

“Are you ready for this?” Yuuri asked. “You’re about to break your training diet.”

“I’m not the one competing in Four Continents in less than a week. Are you sure the two of you should be eating this?”

Yuuri stabbed into the poutine, chewed and swallowed. “You should’ve seen the self-destructive binge I went on before the GPF. It was bad. I probably gained three pounds.” He stabbed the plate again.

“How much is that in real measurements?” Viktor asked, carefully pushing his fork into a fry along the edge of the plate.

Yuuri’s hand froze in mid-air; gravy dripped from the fork to the table. “I’m so Americanized.” He put the fork in his mouth. “I’m not even going to convert it for you.”

Viktor tasted the gravy-laden fry, then quickly ate two large bites. “Vkusno! This is amazing! I can’t believe I never let myself try this. I think this is what heaven tastes like.”

“Wait until you try katsudon,” Yuuri said.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“It’s Yuuri’s favorite food,” Phichit said. “He goes on about it all the time, but he only ever makes it if he wins shit.”

“I also make it when I’m in a really bad depressive state sometimes. It helps until I feel guilty about the calories and the oil. Then I usually just eat more until I’m in a food coma.”

“Binge eating like that is unhealthy, you know,” Viktor said before taking another bite, this time with a very large curd right on top of a small cluster of fries.

“So is not eating enough,” Yuuri said.

“Touché.”

“So,” Phichit said loudly, causing the two to look away from each other. “Since we’re  _ streaming _ this experience for  _ your _ channel, I am going to ask you questions, and you are both going to answer them.” He looked toward the camera and held up his phone, “So if you have any questions for any of us, but especially Viktor and Yuuri, and especially embarrassing shit, tweet it at me!”

“Can I lie?”

“No, Yuuri, you may not.” He unlocked his phone and opened the Twitter app. “Besides, Yuuri, you are a terrible liar.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck your boyfriend.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, first question. Yuuri—what is the worst?”

“The worst? The worst  _ what _ ? The worst boy band? The worst  _ Tales  _ game? The worst My Little Pony character?”

“The worst of the worst. When you hear the phrase ‘the worst’ what is the first thing you think of?”

Yuuri paused. “Panic attacks, probably. But like, the really stupid ones. I’ve had three panic attacks because of misplaced items that I found within the next four hours.  _ Three _ . Because I couldn’t find a fucking water bottle. Not even anything like my phone or the keys to the rink. A  _ water bottle _ .”

“I remember that,” Ketty said. “It was the bottle with the Doraemon stickers that your nieces sent you, and you loved it because it was a gift from home. When we couldn’t find it, you hugged a tree and cried.”

“Don’t remind me, it’s fucking embarrassing. Oh, and  _ Tales of Vesperia _ is the worst  _ Tales _ game and I will fight you on that.” 

“You just don’t like playing a game with a character that has the same name as you, even if you’d look twice as hot in that cosplay as the one you have from  _ Bloodborne _ .”

“ _ Unconfirmed _ , Phichit-kun. And Apple Jack. Apple Jack is the worst pony. I also dislike Princess Celestia. Too high and mighty.”

“Okay, brony bro, moving on—”

“ _ You’re _ the one told me we should watch—”

“—Viktor Nikiforov, your turn. What is the worst?”

“Guns.” Viktor didn’t hesitate.

“Guns?”

“Guns. I can’t stand any of them…I…guns are the worst.”

Ketty chewed a bite and swallowed. “Phi, your followers are mean. I want to know what is the best. Both of you. All of you. The best. Go.”

“Hamsters,” Phichit said. “Hamsters are the best, followed by guinea pigs and then rats, then mice, then gerbils. Gerbils are the worst. Oh, and Charlie horses. Those are the actual worst.”

“She said the best, Phichit,” Yuuri said. “Not more of the worst.”

“But I didn’t answer the worst, and neither has Ketty! Ketty, what is the worst?”

“Flugelhorns are the worst. I suck at all brass, but flugelhorns…I have clearly lived a sheltered life compared to the rest of you, if flugelhorns are the boggart in my closet.”

Viktor coughed and said, “That is not a bad thing. Rough childhoods aren’t a mark of honor. What is the best for you?”

“I went to Tbilisi when I was twelve to meet my grandparents, and we went to see an orchestra playing, and that was the first time I’d been to see an orchestra that wasn’t playing music by my dad, so he was sitting in the audience with me. That is the best. Your turns, both of you. The best.”

“It’s definitely Yuuri,” Viktor said.

“Shut up.”

“Nope. You’re the best. It’s definitely a thing.”

“Phichit said no lying, and it’s not the truth when  _ you _ are clearly the best.”

“You just said I couldn’t do that.”

“I mean, you have broken your own world records nine times in the past three seasons. That’s three world records  _ per year _ . I am the best at binge eating my feelings. You are the best at figure skating. There is a huge difference.”

“I think that you could be better than me, easily. If your anxiety weren’t so bad, there is no way I’d have so many consecutive titles. None.”

“That’s not fair,” Yuuri snapped. He turned in his seat to stare at Viktor, indignation clear on his face in the camera. “Your depression is just as bad as my anxiety, but you’re still winning everything. You can’t blame my failures on my mental illness while discrediting your own success while also having serious mental health problems.”

Viktor turned toward him, his back to the camera. “It’s totally fair for me to say that. The way depression affects me is totally different from the way anxiety affects you, and you  _ also  _ deal with depression on top of that. Depression has never once caused me to feel nauseous or dizzy at a competition; it’s never caused me to have trouble  _ breathing _ . It just makes me feel like everything I do is completely void of meaning, and it’s easy enough to skate through that most of the time.”

Silence fell over the table until Phichit cleared his throat. “You guys…remember that we’re live streaming, right?”

The color drained from Yuuri’s face. “Fuck. Fuck. I—fuck.”

Viktor pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s okay. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s okay.”

“You didn’t want people to know…”

Viktor released the hug, placed his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “It’s…it’ll be okay, right? It was okay for you, so it will be okay for me. It’s okay.”

“I fucked up.”

“Me, too. Hey, Phichit, will you ask us more questions?”

Phichit checked his phone. “Okay, so a lot of people are asking about depression. Like, Viktor, do you really have depression? Or how do you skate with depression? Um, do you want to talk about it?”

Viktor turned in his seat and pulled Yuuri close to his side with his arm, held him while he answered, “I don’t think there’s very much to say about it. It’s something that I’ve been dealing with for a while, I think, but I didn’t fully realize what was going on until after I started talking with Yuuri. I know he’s said that I saved his life, but the truth is that he’s saved mine.”

Ketty pushed Phichit’s side. “Let’s have some fun questions, okay? Get Yuuri out of his head.”

“Alright, fun questions! Internet, fun questions! I know the answer to this one—someone asked about the name Viktuuri Skate Vids, and yours truly, Phichit Chulanont, came up with that name. I will go down with this ship, thank you. Okay, here’s a good one—Viktor, why did you pick a gay love song for your free skate?”

Viktor smiled. “‘Stammi Vicino’ is a beautiful song, and it resonates with me very deeply. A man who doesn’t believe in love, encounters someone, begs his lover to stay so that he no longer feels so empty and alone…and in the end, they choose to remain together and leave the loneliness behind. When I picked that song, I felt like it was a plea to the void for a lover to rescue me from my solitude. I—I suppose I have been very lonely for a long time.”

“Relationships  _ still _ don’t cure mental illness, Vitya,” Yuuri said.

“I know that  _ now _ . At the time, though, the only person in my life that I felt genuinely cared about me was Makkachin. The song ends on a hopeful note of love consummated, and I’d like to live in the end of the song, instead of the beginning, if I can.”

Phichit scrolled through the tweets on his phone. “This one is for Yuuri—how did you discover that you looked better in women’s jeans?”

“Oh, um…” Yuuri looked at Phichit, then at the camera, then at the table. “I was in high school, and I was…well, I was bullied a lot for being gay and for doing things like ballet and figure skating, and these guys from my school kept saying I walked like a girl and I looked like a girl, and asking if I wanted to be a girl and…well, my sister found out and decided to help me get back at them by dressing me up as a girl so that I could mess with their heads at the festival. I chickened out of the prank, and I realize now that it’s not okay to cross dress just to mess with people, but I discovered that I looked and felt better in Mari-neechan’s clothes than my own, so I started buying women’s clothing sometimes. It’s…I wouldn’t call myself genderfluid per se, but I do think gender is mostly performative, so sometimes I do like to go for a more androgynous look. I have slightly wider hips than is normal for guys, so it’s not hard.”

“Oh my god, I love your sister. When did you come out?”

Yuuri leaned on Viktor. “I was thirteen. It was a good day. My family is very supportive; I couldn’t have had a better experience. It—I am very lucky. There are people in other countries whose lives are in danger for being gay, and I got a party with cake and ice cream and queer anime. Everyone’s coming out experience should be like mine.”

“Um, a bunch of people are asking if you guys are dating.”

Instantly, Yuuri pushed away from Viktor. “Sorry.”

“I’m a public figure in Russia,” Viktor said, looking away from Yuuri.

“Oh! Yuuri, someone wants to know how your arm is doing,” Phichit said quickly.

Yuuri pulled up his sleeve and showed the scar to the camera. “Don’t do this to yourselves, kids. This is not fun, and it still hurts. If—if you think you might want to, talk to someone first. The woman from the suicide hotline was really nice to us, so it’s not too scary to call. Phichit called, and they saved my life. I…I really would rather be alive most of the time, so I’m really glad he called, even though I was pretty angry when he did. Take care of yourselves, folks. Don’t—you don’t have to go through things alone.”

“Yuuri, people are tweeting that they love you.”

“Oh. Um.” Yuuri pulled his arm under the table. “Thank you?”

“This is a nice question. Someone wants to know how the press has been since Viktor got here.”

“Surprisingly not terrible,” Yuuri said.

Viktor nodded. “I expected to be approached more often, if I’m honest. But there’s so much going on that I’m a little relieved to have had a few days without a lot of pressure.”

“Okay, here’s a question for Viktor. A lot of people want to know about your black eye. Like, is it real or makeup, and how did it happen?”

“People think it’s fake? That’s rude. It’s not. And I don’t want to talk about it just yet, so it will have to remain a mystery.” Viktor threw a wink to the camera.

Yuuri placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “I think we’ve been streaming a long time. Um, is it okay if we stop now? Sorry. The…the poutine is getting cold, and we’re too distracted to eat it…”

“I think Yuuri’s right,” Ketty said. “Phi, you satisfied?”

“Viktor?”

“I’m also fine with stopping now.”

“Okay, then!” Phichit turned to the camera. “Thanks to all of you for your questions. It’s been quite the night, and we’re not done hanging out yet, but we are going to sign off for the time being. Thanks for joining us! I’m Phichit Chulanont, and tonight we are watching The King and the Skater II. Stay tuned to my Instagram for the latest in Viktuuri content as we force musician Ketty to sit through the second-greatest film about figure skating ever made! Say goodbye, everybody!” Phichit reached toward the camera and ended the stream.


	20. Chapter 20

**February 10, 2016, Late Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov Accidentally Opens Up About Depression in Live Stream** }

_ Two days ago, figure skating World Champion Viktor Nikiforov participated in a live stream from a diner in Detroit, Michigan, alongside competitors Katsuki Yuuri and Phichit Chulanont, plus the daughter of a Grawemeyer Award shortlister, Katherine Abelashvili, to capture Nikiforov’s first experience eating the Canadian dish poutine. The stream turned serious when Katsuki and Nikiforov got into an argument about their different experiences with mental illness, apparently having forgotten that they were live on the internet. Since footage of the stream became available, it has been viewed nearly a quarter of a million times. Fans have begun sending gifts and messages of support to both sports stars. _

_ Several viewers speculate that there is more to the relationship between Katsuki and Nikiforov, claiming that the two are a romantic item. While Katsuki is openly gay, Nikiforov has always skirted questions related to his sexuality. Even seated next to Katsuki, with whom he clearly has an affectionate friendship if nothing more, Nikiforov dodged fan questions about his choice of music for this season’s free skate and whether or not he and Katsuki are dating. His quick response of “I’m a public figure in Russia” coupled with Katsuki’s quick apology has become an unofficial rallying cry for international LGBT rights advocates working in and around Russia. _

  
  


Viktor kept looking over his shoulder. They were definitely alone in the room, sitting side by side and waiting for the rest of the GSA to start trickling into the meeting room in the campus center. They had come to campus early to help allay Viktor’s fear of being seen by paparazzi, but now that they were alone, Yuuri was starting to feel frustrated. “Vitya, if you didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to. It’s okay.” He wondered again, not for the first time, if Viktor genuinely wanted to be with him. When they were alone in the apartment, everything was always fine. Alone, just the two of them in public—Viktor wasn’t ashamed of him. He wasn’t.

“I—I want to. I want to, Yuu-tan. I do. It’s…habit.” Viktor looked toward the floor.

Yuuri held his hand, pulled it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Sorry,” he said, “this is probably hard for you. We do have wigs at home, if you want one.”

Viktor adjusted his hand in Yuuri’s so that they were gripping. “I can do this. If people recognized me with half my face blown up, they’ll recognize me with different hair. I just…I know I’ll have to go back to Russia, even if it’s only until the end of the season, and I—I don’t want to put us in danger.”

Yuuri sighed and rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to. I like having you here.”

“I like being here, too,” Viktor said. He placed a kiss on the top of Yuuri’s head before laying his cheek on Yuuri’s hair. “I wish I could stay forever.”

“I don’t think you have the right visa to stay forever,” Yuuri said. “I do, but I don’t think I want to stay in the United States forever.”

“Where do you want to live?” Viktor asked.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. “I…would like to go back to Japan for at least a little while. I want to see my family, reconnect with my culture. I’ve gotten so used to America, you know. Oh. We should take you to Gigi’s.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

The door to the room opened, and Deandre walked in with Tyler. “Hey, Yuuri—who’s this?”

Yuuri sat up straighter. “Hey, Dee. Tyler. This is, um. This is Viktor.”

Viktor stood up and shook both of their hands. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Holy shit,” Deandre said. “You’re that extra-famous skater that Yuuri’s obsessed with.”

Both Viktor and Yuuri turned bright red. Viktor sat back down and said, “I think it’s a mutual thing.” He grabbed Yuuri’s hand and squeezed it.

The door opened and Phichit walked through with Alex Garrison. Yuuri cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “It’s…quiet, that he’s here, okay? It’s—nobody’s going to jeopardize us, right?”

“I don’t get it,” Tyler said. “Is this your mystery boyfriend?”

Alex Garrison whined in the back of his throat. “This is okay,” he said to himself.

Phichit patted Alex on the back. To Tyler, he said, “It’s illegal to be gay in Russia,” he said.

“It’s not illegal to be gay in Russia,” Viktor said. “It’s illegal to be gay  _ in public _ , to talk about being gay, to ‘promote non-traditional sexualities’ in public, and I’m a public figure, so it’s  _ effectively _ illegal for  _ me _ to be gay.”

“Oh,” Tyler said. “That’s crazy.”

“Dee,” Yuuri said, “is it okay if…we need to not have anyone post about Vitya being here. Is that going to be okay? I, sorry, um. I probably should’ve texted you. Sorry. If it’s a problem…we can go…sorry…”

“Woah, Yuuri, this is a safe space. We all respect that, right?” The door opened behind Deandre, and three more people—two women and a nonbinary person—came into the room. “No one’s going to compromise you guys. If Viktor doesn’t mind, we can take this opportunity to learn more about the situation over there, too. I think it’d be good for us. Only if you don’t mind, of course.”

Viktor shook his head. “I just…want to listen, if that’s okay. I’ve never…I’ve not been allowed…”

Deandre nodded. “It’s cool, man. We all come in at different places, with different problems. Inside this room, you’re safe to be yourself. No matter what happens out there. So, welcome to GSA.”

Yuuri kissed Viktor’s cheek before dropping his head back onto his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Vitya.”

“Me, too,” Viktor said. He repeated the kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head and put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders.

“You know,” Alex Garrison said in the quiet that followed. “You’d think I’d just be heartbroken all over again, but that is fucking precious. Phichit, I think I ship it? What’s happening to me? I like…I think Yuuri is better off with Viktor.”

Phichit snapped a picture. “Don’t worry,” he said when Yuuri made a face. “I literally live with you and am already to blame for the current internet kerfuffle; I’m not going to put this on Insta and make it even worse. I’m making an album for the slideshow at your wedding.”

“Phi, we’ve been together for like, six weeks.”

“Marriage isn’t even legal for us in either of our home countries.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little early—”

“At the very least, I couldn’t so soon—”

“The skating season isn’t even over yet—”

“I need to retire first, so that I can leave Russia for good—”

“Where would we even  _ live _ ?”

The door opened, and another cluster of people walked through. Yuuri bristled. Pres was with them. He’d thought for sure that Pres wouldn’t show up on a Wednesday. The lacrosse team usually had something on Wednesdays, didn’t they? Viktor sensed the sudden increase in tension, and he held Yuuri tighter.

Pres looked at them both and walked to the other side of the room without a word. Yuuri turned to look at Viktor’s face, saw anger and recognition in his eyes. Somehow, his lover knew exactly which person was Yuuri’s ex, even if he’d never seen a picture of him.

The tension in Yuuri’s shoulders grew to enfold the whole room. Deandre brought the club to order. “Alright. We have a budget of five hundred dollars, and with a secondary sponsorship from the WGS department, we could have as much as nine-fifty, probably. We can supplement it with fundraising if we have to, but that’s the prospective budget for Pride Day at the end of the semester. The question is, what do we want this year’s theme to be for the keynote?”

Phichit raised his hand. “Hey, Dee. I was wondering. I think we should do something different this semester.”

“Different from Pride Day?”

“No, no. We should definitely do Pride Day. But I think we should, instead of having just a bunch of like, carnival booths and one keynote speaker, we should have workshops.”

“Okay,” Deandre said. “What kind of workshops?”

Phichit took a deep breath and glanced at Viktor. “Safe sex. Consent. Rape culture.” Yuuri flinched and fidgeted in his seat. He looked at Pres, then at the ground, began scratching at his arm. Viktor discreetly grabbed his hand and tightened his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. Phichit watched them from the corner of his eye before he shot a glare at Pres. “I did some reading online recently, and LGBTQ people are significantly more likely to be victims of sexual assault than straight people, and I know I never thought about it before, but now that I know, I’m kind of obsessed with this information. Like, I’m not saying we should do a show of hands, but I can bet that at least one of us has experienced something like that, right? I just think, if we really want to call ourselves a safe space, we have to be talking about this, and we’re not.” He pulled a stack of papers from his backpack. “I printed out some information from the Human Rights Campaign.” He passed the sheets to Alex, who took one and passed the rest of the stack on.

Deandre nodded when he received his own copy and skimmed over the statistics. “You’re right, we should probably be talking about that.”

Phichit smiled, leveled a stare at Pres. “Safe means safe from the outside world, but it also means safe within our community. We need to talk about dangerous behaviors, and I’m not talking victim-blaming. We need to talk about how to not be a predator.”

“Okay. Yeah. Maybe, instead of changing how we run Pride Day, we could get a keynote speaker to talk about this? Would that work?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Alex said. “Pride Day is mostly about fun and celebration, but the keynote is usually pretty serious already. I think Dr. Villanueva from WGS would love to talk about this, if we ask her.”

“Okay. So, would that make the theme ‘Sexual Assault Awareness’ then?”

“I think that’s what I’m proposing,” Phichit said. “It’s really important, and it’s something that will reach out to a lot of people on campus who aren’t showing up here weekly who are survivors. Maybe even those of us who are showing up here, who just aren’t talking about it.”

“Alright,” Deandre said, “I like this idea, personally. I think it’s a good choice. Are there any other suggestions?”

“I was going to suggest biphobia within the queer community,” one of the women said, “but I think this is…you guys know that I was raped in high school, right? I would really appreciate Phichit’s theme.”

“Okay, let’s put it to a vote. All in favor of Sexual Assault Awareness for this year’s keynote theme? That’s…almost unanimous. Okay. Theme picked.”

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

**February 11, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

Yuuri pulled a clean shirt over his head. “You saved the rink manager’s number in your phone, right? Just text her if you want to skate during my regular practice hours, and she’ll be there.”

Viktor watched Yuuri step into loose running pants. “I have it, yes. I can’t wait to watch you skate. I wish I could come with you.”

“If you don’t want our relationship to completely blow up in the media any more than it has since Phi talked us into that live stream, you’ll stay here, because there is no way you’d be able to keep your hands off me all weekend long.” Yuuri fixed his eyes on him while he pushed his toothbrush into his suitcase and re-zipped the opening shut.

Viktor swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “This is true. I am genuinely fucked. Okay, no Four Continents. Fine. I will stay home.”

“You’re pouting. That means you’re angry.”

“I’ve gone to watch Four Continents before. Everyone knows I’m here; it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I showed up in Regina, too. I think people would expect it, and it would mean I could be there for you.”

“I thought you lived to  _ surprise _ the audience, Vitya.”

“Will you come back to bed? Five more minutes?” Viktor patted the empty space on the mattress next to him.

“Viktor. Ciao-Ciao is probably—” Yuuri’s phone buzzed.

 

_ From XXXXXX: _

_ Thank you for choosing American Airlines! Your flight (XX-XXXX) has been delayed. New scheduled departure time is 13:45. Please visit our associates located at Gate D7 for more information. _

 

“Oh. Never mind. I just got two more hours until I have to be at the airport.”

 

_ To Celestino-sensei, Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ Flight’s delayed. Oyasumi _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ Ugh thank god I’m going back to sleep too. _

_ Or at least *I’m* going to sleep ;) ;) _

 

_ From Celestino-sensei: _

_ One extra hour. No more. I will be there to pick you boys up in one hour. _

 

Yuuri locked his phone and locked his bedroom door. Viktor was sitting cross-legged in his bed, wearing soft pajama pants and no shirt. The blankets and sheets were all pushed into a haphazard pile along the foot of the bed. Yuuri sat on the mattress next to him and placed his hand on Viktor’s thigh. “My flight’s delayed.” He began rubbing circles into Viktor’s leg with his thumb.

Viktor hummed. “You have some extra time.”

“I believe you invited me to bed.”

“I did.”

Yuuri pulled him into a kiss. “That means you’re in charge. What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Viktor kissed him and gently pushed him onto his back. “I feel like you’re always…I feel like we focus on me more than on you, and so if you’d want…I would like to send you off completely satisfied.” His hand grazed the front of Yuuri’s pants.

“Vit—ah. I don’t mind, you know. I…I like to see you cum.”

“I like to see you cum, too. But I only get to about three-quarters as much as you see me. So, if you don’t mind, if you’re okay with it…I want to take care of you. Even the field.” Viktor slipped his fingers under the elastic edge of the running pants and palmed Yuuri through his boxers.

“Vi—yes, ok. Yes. Please. Whatever you want.”

“I want what you want. What do you want done to you, Yuuri?”

“Shirt off. I want…I  _ just _ got dressed, oh my god.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri’s shirt back over his head. “What else?” he asked before he bent to kiss Yuuri’s collarbone. With one hand, he began to gently tease Yuuri’s nipple.

“Can you—I want—your mouth. Please.”

Slowly, torturously, Viktor pulled the track pants down over Yuuri’s hips until they pooled at his ankles. He traced the bright spot of precum leaking through Yuuri’s boxers before pulling them off as well. Yuuri kicked out of the clothing and shuffled into a more comfortable position in the center of the bed. Viktor kissed his lips once more before sinking lower.

Yuuri closed his eyes under the pressure of Viktor’s tongue, fought the urge to thrust up into his lover’s mouth. He gripped the sheets. He’d given so many blowjobs in his life, but he’d been on the receiving side relatively few times in comparison. He’d—Pres had done this for him once, hadn’t he? They’d all gone to the bar near campus…the bathroom…later, he remembered waking up in Pres’s dorm room, but everything in between was blurry. How much had he drunk that night? They were there for Alex’s birthday…shots…Yuuri’s shoulders and torso tensed.

Viktor pulled off. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You stopped moving. Am I doing this wrong?”

“What? No. God, Vitya, no. You…didn’t have to stop…”

“If you’re not into it anymore, I’m not just going to keep going because  _ I’m  _ into it.”

“I  _ am _ into it. Shit. Sorry. I just…I remembered something weird. Sorry. If…if you don’t want to…um…can we start over?”

Viktor pulled himself next to Yuuri and tugged the sheet into place over their bodies. He kissed Yuuri’s shoulder and threw his arm and leg over Yuuri’s body. “You remembered something weird?”

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t even know where it came from. You didn’t have to stop.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “I know that technically, I didn’t have to stop. But I wanted to, because if you’re not enjoying it, then I’m not enjoying it. It’s…that’s part of consent, too, you know. Not just a passive permission, but an enthusiastic, responsive, joint desire.”

“Shit.”

“What’s going through your mind, love?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just remembered this time at a bar with Pres, and…god, I hate that I’m bringing it up. You probably hate me, right? I keep letting my ex ruin the mood.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor held him tighter. “Yuuri. Yuu-tan. I wish I could make this easier for you.”

“It’s my fault I’m so—”

“Don’t blame yourself for his actions. Don’t blame yourself for the way he hurt you. And he did. Hurt you, that is.”

“I…sometimes I know that. Sometimes I think about it, and I can see what you’re saying. I just…before you, he was…it’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

“I won’t, because everything you say is important to me. I…you have more experience with other people than I do, but I think a lot of that experience wasn’t very good. I want everything we do together to be good for both of us. I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too.” Yuuri turned onto his side, and Viktor pulled him closer. “I’m sorry I ruin everything.”

Viktor kissed the back of his neck. “I’d rather have everything ruined by you a thousand times over than anything else in the world.”

“Vitya…this is going to sound so stupid…will you…touch me again?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I…I want to keep going. I don’t want to give up just because I got trapped in my head. So…can we? Please?”

Under the sheet, Viktor stroked down the center of Yuuri’s chest before wrapping his hand around the base of Yuuri’s penis. It had started to go soft, but under Viktor’s touch, it grew again. “Are you sure?”

Yuuri nodded and tugged Viktor’s hand into motion. “Mmhmm. I want this.”

“If you change your mind,” Viktor said as he began moving his hand slowly along the growing shaft, “don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Mmm, ah, faster.”

Viktor reached with his other arm for the bottle of lube that Yuuri had begun storing on top of the end table. He pumped a squirt into his waiting hand, then returned to the motion, increasing in speed. He pulled Yuuri’s earlobe between his teeth, something he had never tried until Yuuri had done it to him.

It took longer than he was used to, but when Yuuri finally came with a shudder, he felt satisfied enough. He ignored the cold pit in his gut and snuggled closer to Viktor. He loved Viktor and he wanted this. There was no reason for him to feel like he’d done something wrong. He let himself lie in Viktor’s arms for less than a minute before he rolled over and climbed on top of Viktor. He kissed his lover. “It’s your turn,” he said. “How do you want me?”

Viktor used his dry hand to bring Yuuri’s forehead to his lips. “I love you,” he said. “I just want to hold you for a while, is that okay?”

“You—you don’t want me to…? Vitya, I can tell you’re aroused.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to  _ perform _ for me. I just want to be in your presence. Is that okay?”

Yuuri hesitated before he rolled back off of Viktor and tore the soiled sheet away from the bed. He tossed the sheet toward the far corner of the room and pulled the blanket over them before settling back into Viktor’s arms. If he hadn’t felt Viktor’s fingers wiping the tears off of his cheek, he wouldn’t have known he was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, friends! I want to throw a major shoutout to Paktigija, Woodentrain and Ninthwonders_Cariad. I might have accidentally cracked a (Freudian slip) joke in a comment reply to P. about not wanting to be alive all the time, and all three of them reached out to me to make sure I was okay. As an update to that, I am doing okay now. This time a week ago, I was very, very close to attempting suicide. After two days of incessant thoughts and planning, I told a friend what I was going through on Monday afternoon, and he spent several hours with me, talking me down and helping me steady my nerves enough to start looking for a psychiatrist. I still haven't found one yet, but I am working on it.
> 
> Again, I really want to highlight the fact that Paktigija, Woodentrain and Ninthwonders_Cariad all took the time to talk to me about my mental state, even though we don't know each other anywhere else but here on AO3. That's how we as a community help each other; that's how we survive. N. asked me to please stay, and I thought about that for hours. Heck, I am still thinking about it. I have asked many people to stay in the past, but very very few have ever asked the same of me. I may have cried (unconfirmed).
> 
> Also, a similar shoutout to Denrhea and BluSkates. The suicidality in question, I talked about it with them after I came down, but I was still in a pretty bad headspace. And when I realized I wasn't getting paid, even though I was supposed to be paid yesterday, they tried to help me strategize on how to get through until I do get paid (I was too anxious at the time to appreciate Den's logical approach to the whole "food is not a luxury" thing, but she was not wrong). We started our group chat to talk about our fics, and they have provided a lot of emotional support to me instead. And they're like, super respectful of the shitty things in my past, too. Like, seriously. Den changed the entire emotional direction of Glitters because I got triggered when she sent the chapter where *spoiler redacted*. I have a lot of love for BluSkates and Denrhea. Go read their stuff if you haven't. I personally recommend "Memories are the Only Real Ghosts" by Blu and "Semicolon" by Den. Thems my jams.
> 
> So to all of you, the five people mentioned above and everyone else who's stumbled across this angsty AU, please stay. I am going to stay.
> 
> -M.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is World Mental Health Awareness Day!!!
> 
> A huge THANK YOU to everyone who dropped me messages of support after my last chapter. I have never experienced such a powerful outpouring of love in my direction in my entire life. I have never felt quite as wanted as I felt on Sunday as the comments just kept coming in and coming in, and as people reached out and gave me advice on how to better go about getting help.
> 
> This is a wonderful community; you are all such beautiful souls.

**February 13, 2016, Mid-Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

_ From Ketty (Detroit): _

_ Hi, Viktor! Lev and I will be there in about ten minutes to pick you up! _

_ He’s really excited to meet the man who “finally stole Yuuri’s heart away from that famous skater in the poster” _

_ He didn’t believe me when I told him about you, and I didn’t correct him. _

_ Lol it’ll be funnier this way. _

 

_ To Ketty (Detroit): _

_ I don’t know how formal I should be dressed. I haven’t been to a synagogue in years. _

_ Are you sure it’s okay that I come? _

 

_ From Ketty (Detroit): _

_ {img} _

_ That’s what Lev has on. _

_ You’ve been to temple before? :) :) _

 

_ To Ketty (Detroit): _

_ It’s a long story… _

 

Viktor was waiting outside of Yuuri’s building, winter beanie on his head, when Ketty pulled up to the curb. She waved to him from the driver’s seat, and he climbed into the back behind her. He held his hand out to the man in the passenger seat. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Lev Cohen, and I owe Ketty twenty dollars,” he said when he took Viktor’s hand and shook it. “I definitely did not believe her when she told me you were here.”

Ketty chuckled as she pulled onto the road again. Viktor sat back in his seat and pulled the buckle into its lock. “Oh? Why not?”

“Because,” Ketty said, “Yuuri’s been gently pining for you for as long as we’ve known him.”

“The whole time he was dating Pres, he was definitely also still mooning over you like a kid who sits in the back of the class and stares longingly at the popular boy who’s never even looked his way.”

Viktor bristled at the mention of Pres, but he felt a smug satisfaction knowing that Yuuri had preferred him even then—he wished for the thousandth time that they’d met sooner. If he’d taken the time to meet Yuuri during his first Worlds competition a few years ago, then maybe… “I was already looking his way,” Viktor said. “We just hadn’t caught each other glancing yet.”

“Cheesy, but precious,” Lev said. He reached across the center console and placed his hand on Ketty’s knee. “Are you ready for shul?”

“Thank you both for inviting me. I’m not particularly religious, but I know that Yuuri is interested in lots of religions, so I’d like to learn more.”

“Have you ever been to a synagogue before?” he asked.

Viktor hesitated before answering. “When I was younger, eight or nine maybe, I had a friend in school…he invited me several times, and I would go to his house on Fridays for sleepovers and then go home Saturday evenings afterward. After my parents found out where I was going…I wasn’t allowed to see him anymore. I was put into a private school and told to cut contact.”

“Oh,” Lev said. “That’s…”

“Anti-Semitic,” Ketty said. “And really fucked up, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Viktor shrugged. He didn’t mention the beating he’d received, the broken rib that took six weeks to heal. He grabbed the rib through his shirt, felt the thump of his heart soft through his chest. “They are not good people. My parents, that is.” He sank further into the seat, adjusted the cross-body seatbelt strap so that it rested farther away from his neck. “I guess they’re both dead now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I think it matters a lot, actually,” Ketty said. “You had the choice to be like them, you know. But you’re not.” She parked along the street. “We’re about three blocks away, so we’ll have to walk a little bit,” she said. “Neither of us care that much about driving or using electricity on the Sabbath, but this is Lev’s parents’ temple, and they’re a lot more…conservative…than either of us. So, we’re keeping up appearances, I guess.”

When they got out of the car, Lev reached for Ketty’s hand. “We only come here every once in a while,” he said, “but they have an outreach group that’s really great at explaining how Judaism works for non-Jews, and we thought you might like that, so my mom got in touch with Roni, and he’s going to give you a walkthrough of everything. It’s a good place to start if you’re interested in learning more.”

Viktor nodded, an image of Andrei Ivanovitch turning in his grave passing through his mind. “I would like to learn more, yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 13, 2016, Evening – Regina, Canada**

Yuuri stuffed his shaking hand in his jeans pocket, the tight restriction of the small space keeping the motion contained. By the end of the competition, he would pass the two-month mark from when his withdrawal symptoms had begun. The tremor in his hand now was the first symptom he’d had in the past several days outside of his usual anxiety and depression. He was getting  _ better _ .

With his hand still in his pocket, he steadied his breath for a burst of pre-competition interviews. Celestino held open a door in front of him, and Yuuri walked through. Instantly, a small crowd of reporters flocked around him.

“Mr. Katsuki, this is your first competition since Nationals. How do you feel going into it?”

Yuuri shrugged his shoulders a little and brushed his hair out of his face with his steady hand. “Nervous?” he said. “I’m okay.”

“We were hoping to see Viktor here to support you. Mr. Katsuki, is there any credence to the rumor that you two are a romantic item?”

“Um, Vitya is practicing for Worlds right now, and with everything else going on in his life, he really doesn’t have the time to take a few days off now to come see his competitors here.” Yuuri didn’t answer the second question, hoped that they wouldn’t ask again.

“And the rumors?”

_ Fuck _ . His heartbeat picked up in his chest. “I, um. No comment.” He tried to clench his shaking fist in his pocket; of all the non-answers he could give,  _ no comment _ was the clearest  _ yes _ of them all. Viktor was going to be so annoyed with him later, but what else could he do? He’d never been poised in front of reporters, and before this—everything—had happened, they’d stuck mostly to questions about his skating. He needed to get it back to his skating…

“Mr. Katsuki, what can you say about Viktor’s depression?”

“Mr. Katsuki, is it true you tried to commit suicide last month?”

“Mr. Katsuki, are you sure that you’re stable enough to comp—”

“It’s not going to affect my skating, if that’s what you’re asking,” Yuuri snapped at the reporters. He was starting to feel dizzy with how fast his heart was beating. He needed this to be done. “I had an injury, but it’s healed, and yes, I may be…but I can still compete. I can still compete. I would prefer if you’d stick to questions about the sport; everything else is really irrelevant,  _ especially _ questions about Viktor.”

“How do you feel about that quad Salchow? You have one planned in both your short program and your free skate, but you’ve landed it less than thirty percent of the time.”

Deep breath. He placed his steady hand on his chest and pressed against his heart with the heel, hoping the pressure would help calm it down. “I’d like to change that,” he said. “I land it about ninety percent in practice, so it’s not the quad sow’s fault I’ve been messing it up in competition. I’ll do my best.”

Celestino put a hand on his shoulder. “If that’s it, we’ll be going now. Yuuri has plans to watch the pairs short program, which is starting shortly.”

Yuuri nodded and let Celestino guide him away from the crowd. “Phichit doesn’t have to put up with this,” he said when they entered the competitors’ section of the stands. “Nobody does. It’s not fair.” They picked a spot on an empty bench, and Yuuri used the space to lay down. He closed his eyes and counted his breathing, focused on the sensation of cold metal against his back. His heart rate began to slow down.

“I’m proud of you,” Celestino said. “We probably should’ve done more prep on how to deal with those kinds of questions. Sorry about that, Yuuri.”

“It’s not  _ your _ fault,” Yuuri said. “It’s my fault I’m so fucked up, and now that everyone knows about it, that’s all they care about. This is why I didn’t ever say anything before. Before I was a mediocre skater. Now I’m a crazy skater.”

A shadow fell over Yuuri’s face. “Katsuki,” a voice said.

Yuuri opened his eyes. “Bin-san, hello,” he said. He shifted himself upright.

Cao Bin sat next to Yuuri. “How are you?” He stared at the ice, watching the Zamboni make its last pass after the warmup.

Yuuri shrugged. “You?”

The Chinese skater sighed. “Tired,” he said. “I think I’m going to retire after Worlds.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said. He wilted. “Um. What are…no, sorry. Um. Uh.  _ Gomen _ .”

“So, give me a fight for the top of that podium,” he said. “I’d like to share it with you, if we can.”

Yuuri nodded. “Okay,” he said, “let’s take the podium together.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 14, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Good morning when you wake up, good luck, and _

_ HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!! _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ This is my first Valentines Day with a boyfriend, and I’m in his apartment _

_ And he’s in another country… _

( ╬ ⓪益⓪)

(ꐦ ಠ皿ಠ )

༼ つ ͠° ͟ ͟ʖ ͡° ༽つ

 

_ From Chris: _

_ What is with those…are they faces? _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ It’s an app that Yuuri put on my phone aren’t they cute??? _

o(*>ω<*)o

 

_ From Chris: _

_ … _

_ … _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ I love having a Japanese boyfriend _

 

_ From Chris: _

_ I’m happy for you. _

_ How long are you staying in Detroit? _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ As long as I possibly can _

_ At least until my lawyers make sure that my relatives can’t euthanize me _

 

_ From Chris: _

_ Euthanize is a strong word… _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ So when I say that my uncle Yevgraf wants to have me imprisoned indefinitely in order to steal my inheritance by exploiting my preference for men, and that there is legal precedent wherein he can do that if he chooses to also exploit my mental health, which could possibly end up with me dead, because that happens… _

 

_ From Chris: _

_ … _

_ Have you heard from your lawyers yet? _

 

_ To Chris: _

_ No, not in a few days. _

_ I will call again tomorrow if I don’t hear anything by mid-morning. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ SLEEP WOULD BE GREAT BUT I LOVE YOU _

_ sorry again about being an idiot in front of the stupid fucking press _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ You are competing in seven hours _

_ Sleep. Now. _

_ And, again, you did fine. Better than I would have done _

_ Because I am so completely gone for you  _ ✿♥‿♥✿

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

(｡・ ‧ ̫・｡).*＊ ♡

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

♡ 〜ლ(๑癶ᴗ癶๑)ლ〜 ♡

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ That is a long one wow. _

_ Ok sleep take two. _

_ <3 _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ {img} _

_ Makkachin made a snow-dog _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ YOU HAVE BLESSED ME _

_ I miss her so much _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Do you know when you’re coming back yet? _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ Not sure. Will talk to lawyers tomorrow. _

_ I promise _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Viktor, also…I don’t want to push too much…but… _

_ Have you considered seeing a doctor while you’re in America? _

_ Even if it’s just once or twice, or to get a prescription that you might not have access to here… _

_ I think it would be good for you. _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ Yuuri invited me to come with him to one of his therapy sessions, but I’m not sure yet… _

_ I don’t want to intrude. _

_ I… _

_ I’ll talk to his friends tomorrow about it. _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Good. Let me know how everything goes :) _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 14, 2016, Mid-Morning – Regina, Canada**

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ holy fuck did you see it did you see it did you see it _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ 98.03!!!! PERSONAL BEST!!!!! _

_ You’ll break 100 next time for sure!!!! _

 

_ From Nishigori Takeshi: _

_ You moved all of your jumps to the second half _

_ Normally, I’d call that crazy _

_ But it worked out. _

_ Congratulations! _

 

_ To Nishigori Takeshi: _

_ Oh my god what time is it even _

_ Shouldn’t you be asleep??? _

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ YUURI OMEDETOU!! _

_ Did I spell that right? Did I botch it? _

_ Still really fuckin bad at Japanese _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Thank you so much for helping me reorder my jumps _

_ I wouldn’t have done it without you _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Arigatou!! _

_ Everyone is bad at Japanese. _

_ Mari-neechan struggled with grade school kanji into high school _

_ She’s dyslexic, though… _

 

_ From Lev Cohen (Hillel): _

_ Hey, good job! _

 

_ From Alex Garrison: _

_ Congratulations on that personal best!!! Your boyfriend jumped up and down and cried and oh my god, Yuuri, marry that man. _

 

_ To Alex Garrison: _

_ *screeeeeeches* _

_ I will try to marry that man. _

 

_ To Lev Cohen (Hillel): _

_ Thank you!! _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU _

_ Also you need a better choreographer _

_ You know what I’m good at? ;) ;) _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Handjobs _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ {img} _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ omg I am with Phichit and Leo _

_ They are actual teenagers. _

 

_ From Nishigori Yuuko: _

_ {img} _

_ The girls are excited for Uncle Yuuri and wouldn’t go to sleep, so we all stayed up to watch it live! _

_ Congratulations, Yuuri-kun! I knew you could do it! _

_ And we need to catch up soon, because we haven’t actually talked much since before the GPF _

_ And I saw that you were going through a rough patch, so I didn’t want to press… _

_ BUT _

_ We need to talk about your love life. _

 

_ To Nishigori Yuuko: _

_ Go to sleep oh my god. It’s almost four in the morning and your kids are six years old. _

_ And catching up would be nice. I would like that :) _

_ Skype after I get home? _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Save it for later ;) _

_ And choreography. _

_ I am good at choreography. _

_ Can I choreograph for you next season?? _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ …  _

_ {img} _

_ NIKIFOROV, YOU BROKE MY SMOL SON _

_ #phichitout _

_ …  _

_ it’s me again, sorry about that _

 

_ From Nishigori Yuuko: _

_ YES _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Your face is so precious when you have passing moments of residual hero-worship. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ If you want hero-worship wait till I get home _

_ You. Me. Alone in a dark room… _

_ It’s still too cold for mud wrestling, after all. _

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ *insert porn noises here _

_ fuck me. please. right now. _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ still in public with actual teenagers, so no. _

_ but maybe later we could Skype? _

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ JUST TELL ME WHEN _

 

_ From +1-313-XXX-XXXX _

_ Hey, Yuuri, it’s me. Preston. I watched your short program. _

_ It was really good. Really sexy. _

_ I know you’ve got that boyfriend now, but maybe we could talk at least? Try to be friends? _

_ We can go to Gigi’s or something _

_ Please? _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ {screenshot} _

_ What do I do? _

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 16, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Regina, Canada**

Yuuri still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten roped into a post-press conference meet and greet with fans, but he was here in a room full of people who’d paid an extra seventy dollars to meet him and the other medalists. He tried to hide behind Cao and Otabek as they walked into the room. If he hadn’t taken the silver, then he wouldn’t have to be here, but silver at Four Continents proved that he was on the mend. If he could medal—any medal—he had to have some control over himself, right? He still felt like he was going crazy, but this was a return to normalcy that he’d been desperate for. Hiding behind Cao, that was normal, too.

Otabek, bronze. The Kazakh skater was an unknown; it was his first season in international competition. He looked…not unhappy to be there, but not happy either. A nondescript, blank stare on his face made him look cool and collected—the opposite of how Yuuri felt most of the time. Then again, Yuuri had come to realize that most people had assumed him to be antisocial because of disdain or a superiority complex when really it was just the severity of his anxiety. He didn’t want to judge the younger skater based on his visage. Otabek turned his eyes to Yuuri, caught him staring. Yuuri flushed red in embarrassment and looked to the ground.

“Congratulations on your silver,” Otabek said.

“You, too,” Yuuri said. “On the bronze. This was your first Four Continents, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I hope not my last.”

“I’m sure it won’t be,” Yuuri began scratching at his sleeve along his scar. “I mean, you’ll probably win this next year.”

“If I can afford to compete,” Otabek shrugged. “If I can find a coach who will work with me in Almaty.”

“Oh,” Yuuri moved his hand to the back of his neck.  _ Stupid. Everyone has issues, not just you. Yours aren’t important compared to _ —

“I would like to beat JJ,” Otabek continued.

“Rivalry?”

“Not exactly. I used to train with him.”

Cao turned around, “He said he was skipping this to focus on Worlds, and I would like to beat him at Worlds because I don’t think he should be skipping Four Continents, especially not as the top Canadian when it’s in Canada. He seems to believe that only the European skaters are worth competing against.”

Yuuri nodded. “Vitya and Chris are both European, but Bin-san competes here. JJ shouldn’t disrespect you like that.”

“Don’t discount yourself, Katsuki. You could have medaled in Sochi, too.”

“But I didn’t.”

Cao sighed. “I remember hearing extenuating circumstances affected the outcome. You should medal at Worlds, I would guess.”

Yuuri shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said.

Their conversation fell silent while a representative from the ISU explained the rules of the meet and greet. The three skaters would stay in the center of the room, and the fifty or so guests would have half an hour to come, shake hands and speak for a few minutes with any of the skaters. They were not to monopolize the whole half hour, so that everyone would get a chance.

Yuuri stayed close to Cao and Otabek with two security guards behind them. He tried to keep his nervous ticks to a minimum. Every handshake, every hello started to weigh on him, though, and he felt his stomach roiling. A man told him he was inspiring, a woman told him he had beautiful thighs.

He heard a ringing in his ears when he noticed—in the far corner of the room, a teenage girl. Was she…she was starting to have a panic attack. She was sinking to the floor, hiding in a corner. “ _ Sumimasen _ ,” he said quickly to the stranger in front of him. He made a beeline to the girl and knelt beside her. “Hi,” he said. “My name’s Yuuri. What’s your name?” If there was one thing Yuuri knew better than most people, it was how to handle a panic attack. He hoped he could help and not make it worse, but it was too late to back out. He _had_ to help this girl, and he couldn't let himself panic as well. She was already in the throes of it; Yuuri had to be the strong one.

The girl looked at him, pupils blown wide. Her breathing was erratic, but she squeaked out, “Ashley.”

“Ashley, hi. Do you…hmm…let’s take a deep breath, okay. In. Good. Out. Great. Again.” He coached her through a few more beats of deep breathing before the calming effect shattered and she began hyperventilating again. “Okay, um. Can I touch you?” She nodded her head and he put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s try this. Can you tell me five things that you see?”

Her voice shaking, she said, “I see the floor. Your sneakers. The…the bottom of the wall. My hands. You.”

“Great. Four things you can feel. Like, touch sense. Not like emotions. Things you can feel.”

“Your hand. The floor. It’s cold. The wall. My shoe’s too tight.”

“Three things you can hear.”

“There’s this high-pitched white noise, people with cameras. They’re all looking at me, oh my god, they’re all—”

“One more thing.”

“Your voice.”

“Good. Two things you can smell.”

“Metal and concrete.”

“Great. Last step. One positive thing about yourself.”

“Um. I…make good pizza from scratch?”

“Really? I love pizza. It’s a lot of carbs, so it’s not like I eat it every day, but sometimes there’s free pizza in my school’s campus center, and my roommate texts me about when he sees it so I don’t miss it.”

The girl laughed. “I can see that happening. I follow Phichit’s Instagram.”

“Oh! He’ll be so jealous that I got to meet you.” Yuuri stood up and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself to her feet.

“You’re my favorite skater.”

“Thank you.”

“I…my best friend was supposed to come with me to this, but her mom told her last-minute that she couldn’t come, and I really wanted to, so I came alone, and I was trying to be normal, because it’s normal to do things, isn’t it? But I couldn’t…there are so many people, and I thought…in the corner…they’re still looking—”

“They’re not looking at you. It’s okay. They’re looking at me. Are you feeling better now?”

“Mmhmm. Sorry. I ruined your meet and greet.”

“I met you and I greeted you, so I think I’m doing it right enough, don’t you?”

She wiped the corners of her eyes and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Um. If it’s…if it’s not too much trouble…can we take a picture?”

“Sure. Yeah. Can we get one on my phone, too?”

Yuuri wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, barely touching the back of her jacket, and extended his left arm to snap a selfie. He took one on her phone and another on his, not noticing that his sleeve slipped down his arm and revealed his scar. The girl glanced at it for a second, but focused her attention on the camera lenses in the phones. “Thank you,” she said when Yuuri tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Your skating…it really means a lot to me. I was…I’m not okay most the time.”

“Me either,” Yuuri said. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “To be honest,” he said, “if I hadn’t seen you, I would’ve been panicking myself in just a couple more minutes. I guess we really helped each other. Thank you.”

She hugged him one last time before the security guard came over to direct Yuuri back to where he was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm facing a little pinch of writer's block. What would you like to see happen before Viktor leaves Detroit?


	22. Chapter 22

**February 18, 2016, Early Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Katsuki Yuuri Talks Fan Out of Panic Attack** }

_Fans of Katsuki Yuuri have been falling over themselves the past two months with an unprecedented amount of personal information and fan interactivity from the previously elusive and private Japanese figure skater. Nothing compares to his actions at the recent Four Continents Championship in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada, when Katsuki noticed a fan at a meet and greet experiencing a panic attack. He was able to talk the fan down and posed with her for pictures once she was completely calm. Several of the other fans at the event filmed the interaction on their phones, and footage of the act has already gone viral._

_When asked about it, Katsuki said, “I have been on the other end so many times, so I know what it’s like. I couldn’t do nothing. That would be wrong. The most important thing for people is to know that we’re not alone, especially when we feel like we are the most alone we could be. I know how that feels, so if I can help someone else, I want to be able to help.”_

_The fan declined to comment, but Katsuki said that they had exchanged contact information and would be keeping in touch._

_Katsuki, who suffers from a severe anxiety disorder and depression, opened up about his mental health in the wake of doping allegations at the beginning of the year. It’s good to see that he is able to use his know-how in a pinch to help others with similar afflictions._

 

 

Viktor crossed one leg over the other and balanced the clipboard on his knee. He filled out the information on the page, tried to be as honest as he could. He felt the weight of Yuuri’s arm, warm around his shoulders. “What does this mean?” he asked, pointing to a word he didn’t recognize.

Yuuri looked at the page. “Somatic? Uh, of the body. So, like, somatic pains would be bodily pains.”

“Thanks. What about this one?” He pointed to another, lengthier word.

“Concomitant. It’s like, existing at the same time, but usually a little bit less than? So, a concomitant medical condition would be like, if you had some other thing wrong with you.”

“I don’t think so,” Viktor said. He marked _none_ next to the symptom.

The door that led from the waiting room opened, and a woman popped her head through. “Viktor?”

Yuuri patted him on the back before Viktor rose from his seat. “I didn’t finish filling in everything.”

“That’s okay,” the woman said. “We’ll get to it.”

He turned to look at Yuuri, who smiled up at him from the chair. “I’m really proud of you,” he said. “Do you need me to go back with you?”

He wanted to have Yuuri there, but… “It’s okay,” he said. “I can do this.”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you,” Yuuri said.

Viktor crossed the waiting room and walked through the door. He followed the woman down a cream-colored hallway and through another door into an office with warm lighting. She motioned for him to take a seat. “I’m Sharon,” she said, settling herself in behind her desk. “Let’s get you into our system so that we can help you.”

 

 

 

Yuuri was typing on his laptop when Viktor came back into the waiting room. For the brief moment before Yuuri noticed him, Viktor watched the deep concentration etched into his lover’s face. Then, with the sound of the door settling back into place, Yuuri looked up and caught sight of Viktor. He smiled, hit a couple more keys on the keyboard and closed the computer.

“How did it go?” he asked while he pushed the folded laptop back into his bag.

“Alright,” Viktor said. They walked out of the building into the parking lot. Viktor followed Yuuri as they walked to the bus stop. “She gave me a prescription for something that begins with an _s_ and scheduled me to come back in two days. Since I have to leave in three weeks to go back to St. Petersburg, she wants me to get as much done as possible while I’m here. But she _was_ confused why I didn’t go to the same place you’re going.”

“You could’ve if you wanted to,” Yuuri said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Viktor sighed. “I know. I thought about it, but I don’t want to deal with the border that much, if I can help it. Technically, I’m here on my work visa, and I’m not exactly working.”

“You’re helping at the rink with the juniors. That counts as working.”

“Enough that I don’t feel guilty about it, I suppose.”

A bus pulled up to the stop. Yuuri used his student card to ride for free and paid Viktor’s fare, then led him to the back of the bus. They sat together, and when Viktor felt comfortable that no one was looking their way, he quietly interlaced his fingers with Yuuri’s. Yuuri stiffened beside him for a moment, then dropped his head onto Viktor’s shoulder.

They rode the bus to the terminal, then transferred to another route. “Do you think you’ll remember this for the next appointment?” Yuuri asked while he paid for the second bus.

“You know, I can pay for myself,” Viktor said. “If what my lawyers said is correct, I should be coming into money soon.” They moved to the back of the bus and sat again, this time interlinking hands quickly.

Yuuri ran his thumb over Viktor’s knuckles. “Vitya, you’re literally one of the wealthiest solo athletes in the world. You were on the cover of _Forbes_ once.”

“Was I?”

“You don’t remember that?

Viktor paused. “Sometimes my memory isn’t that great. When I was young, I had a hard time learning routines. That’s why I pushed myself to do my own choreography. I could remember it better if I came up with it myself instead of someone else doing it for me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Surprised?” Viktor asked. The bus pulled out of the terminal. Five more stops, and they would be two blocks away from the apartment.

“A little,” Yuuri confessed. “It’s a skating fact, and I know all the skating facts about you. I know literally everything about you that you’ve ever told the media ever.”

“Really? Wow.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You really are my biggest fan, aren’t you, Yuuri?”

“That was before I knew how clingy you are when you sleep.”

“And now?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. Viktor shifted in the seat until he could drop his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. Ten minutes passed in the soft rumbling of the bus on the road before Viktor felt Yuuri’s movement through his cheek. Yuuri had pulled the stop request cord, and when the bus slid to a halt, he led Viktor off. When the bus pulled away, Viktor grabbed onto Yuuri’s hand again and let Yuuri lead him home.

Once safely behind the door of the apartment, Yuuri pulled Viktor into a kiss. They dropped their coats and stepped out of their shoes. “Okay,” Yuuri said. “I want hot chocolate. Do you want hot chocolate?”

“Sounds lovely,” Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri. “In a minute.”

Yuuri eased into the hug, held Viktor back just as tightly as Viktor was clinging to him. Viktor had always believed himself to be too clingy, too needy in a physical sense, to ever be able to have a partner. Waiting in the back of his mind, he always knew that the moment he let himself fall in love, he would stick to that man like a glue trap. Instead of letting go of Yuuri, Viktor held onto him while they walked from the door to the kitchen. Yuuri didn’t question it, just walked backwards and accommodated him, matched his lead step for step. In the kitchen, Viktor adjusted his grip and led him in a few steps of a basic waltz. After spinning, Yuuri switched their hands and guided Viktor through the basic passes of a tango del salón. Viktor tried to keep up as Yuuri switched styles and schools, twisting and dipping and turning them around the kitchen to some silent melody in his head. Viktor could hear the music radiating off of Yuuri’s body in the soft exhales through his nose, the percussive pulse of his heart, the thin beads of sweat flicking off his brow and evaporating in the air. When they stopped, Viktor fell breathless into another kiss.

When they separated, Viktor sat at the table. “How much dance experience do you have?”

“I dunno,” Yuuri said while he reached for a clean saucepan in the cabinet above the stove. “A lot? When I was a little kid, I wanted to be a danseur. I might have only been three or four when I started ballet. I don’t remember ever starting it; Minako-sensei’s studio was always just a part of my life. She got me to try skating when I was six, and I was good at both, but I didn’t decide to make skating my priority over dance until I was twelve.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of vanilla soymilk, poured the white liquid liberally into the pan. He returned the cap to the carton, then the carton to the fridge, before lighting the burner under the soymilk.

“And then five years later, you were Junior World Champion.”

Yuuri blushed, focused on the liquid in the pan. “Yeah. I guess I did do that once.”

“I can’t wait to see you win gold,” Viktor said. “I know there’s this ridiculous powerhouse in the sport right now, but I think if anyone can unseat him, it’s probably you.”

“Oh?” Yuuri distracted himself by opening packets of instant cocoa mix and dumping their contents into mugs. “You sound pretty sure of yourself about that. Do I have some sort of advantage over this ‘ridiculous powerhouse,’ as you put it?”

“Only the whole world.”

“I’d hate for him to make it easy, though.” Yuuri poured the milk evenly between the two mugs, stirring in the powder. He handed one to Viktor and kept the other for himself.

“Sounds fair.”

“You’re on.” They clinked their mugs together and took a sip of the hot chocolate.

“I love you,” Viktor said. “I can’t believe it sometimes, that this is happening.” With his free hand, he reached for Yuuri’s and squeezed their palms together. “That I’m allowed to have this.”

“Dude, me either,” Yuuri said. Without letting go, he pulled another chair from under the table with his foot and sat down. “It’s so crazy to me that you’re still here. Every day, I keep thinking you’ll be gone, and you never are. You’re still here.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “The only place I ever want to be is exactly where you are.”

A coughing from the doorway caused Yuuri to jump in his seat and both of them to look toward the noise. Phichit stood in the doorway with Alex, Ketty and Lev. Ketty was holding a stack of DVD cases, and Phichit had a wide grin on his face.

“Phichit-kun!” Yuuri said. “You fucking scared me.”

“Yuuri, my platonic love,” Phichit said. “It is time to help your boyfriend regain his childhood. Ketty brought Disney.”

On cue, Ketty turned the stack so that Yuuri and Viktor could read the spines. “Oh,” Yuuri smiled. “We _have_ to start with _The Princess and the Frog_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 20, 2016, Late Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

_From Ashley Marsden (4CC Fan):_

_Hi, Yuuri! You told me to text you if any more weird people showed up trying to talk to me about you, and I just wanted to let you know that except for that one guy the day after it happened, so far so good! I didn’t want you to be worrying about me too much. Thank you again, so much. My friend is really jealous of me. She’s a skater, too, but she says she’ll never make it to the national level. She’s a huge Viktor fan._

 

_To Ashley Marsden (4CC Fan):_

_Omg me too. I am a huge Viktor fan._

_{img}_

_Tell her we say hi!!_

_I am glad that they’re leaving you alone. Paparazzi kind of scare me._

_Do let me know if anyone starts harassing you. Vitya and I will take care of it, I promise._

 

_From Ashley Marsden (4CC Fan):_

_That picture omg. I will not put that on a fanblog that I do not run, no._

_Is it weird if I tell you that we ship it? You don’t have to tell me if you’re dating or not, but we both definitely think you should be._

 

_To Ashley Marsden (4CC Fan):_

_Shh…_

 

“Yuuriyuuriyuuri,” Phichit said from where he was lying on the floor of the living room. “I know it’s my turn, but can you call China Star tonight?”

“I, um. Actually,” Yuuri didn’t look away from his game. “I have a date tonight, so no.”

“No fair.” Phichit groaned and rolled from his back to his stomach. “I can barely move, Yuuri. Take care of me.”

“But I’m taking Viktor to Gigi’s.”

Phichit sprung to his feet and began tugging at Yuuri’s arm. “What are you doing playing _Bloodborne_ again when you need to be getting _ready_?”

Yuuri tried to shake him off and lost focus on the controller. “Stop, Phichit, you’re gonna get me killed.”

Phichit plopped onto the seat next to Yuuri, still clutching his arm. “Kill them all, Yuuri. You can do it. I have faith in you.”

“You’re fucking lucky I’m playing solo.”

“Get it get it get it. Yes! Shit, jump, Yuuri! Jump!”

“Fucking fuck what the fuck. I fucking jumped. Fuck this stupid fucking piece of shit. Fuck.”

“You’re not dead yet. Oh. Wait. Now you’re dead.”

Yuuri tossed the controller into the far corner of the couch. “I fucking hate this game.”

“Yuuri, this is literally your favorite game. You bought a cosplay—not a costume, a _cosplay_ —for Halloween and then wore it around the apartment for three days.”

“Don’t shit on cosplay when you write RPF of your friends.”

“RPF Drunk Yuuri got his man and cured homophobia. That story needs to be told.”

“Well,” Yuuri said with a smile, “Sober Yuuri still got his man.”

“Even better.” Phichit scooted closer to Yuuri on the couch and hugged his arm to his chest. Without looking up at Yuuri’s face, Phichit said, “I wanted to say I’m sorry about before, by the way. With the whole ‘disaster slut’ thing. I realized that I was encouraging behavior that put you at risk. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but so much kept coming up and happening that I never really had the chance to say anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said. He pulled his arm free from Phichit’s grasp and slung it around the Thai teen’s shoulders. “You’re still technically a teenager; you’re allowed to not know shit.”

“How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?”

“I don’t know…the things that I was joking about…how much of that was actually…you know…bad?”

Yuuri sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Viktor probably thinks most of it. There’s…I probably did blow Jase Long, you know. He probably wasn’t lying.”

“That’s not okay,” Phichit said.

“I don’t really care. I don’t. I…Pres was bad. I don’t…Pres was…using me. Abusing me maybe? I don’t know; I don’t remember it very well. It’s not…I told that freshman Tyler to stay away from him…Pres texted me the other day, by the way. He has a different number now. Said he wanted to talk, be friends.”

“Block him.”

“That’s what Ketty said.”

“Block him like the Berlin Wall, Yuuri.”

“You know that came down in the 80s, right? Neither of us were even born yet. Viktor was.”

“Where is Viktor, anyway? And block Pres.”

“I did, and I dunno where he is, rink maybe? Or Alex said something about getting Viktor some dog therapy. One look at a picture of Makkachin, and those gorgeous pouty blue eyes complaining about having to leave her with Georgi, and off they go. Didn’t invite me, even though _my_ dog _died_ , but whatever.”

“You’re not salty at all,” Phichit said with a roll of his eyes.

“Nope. Perfectly bland and free of sodium here.”

“Yuuri…they probably thought you were coming and didn’t _need_ to be invited. Right now, they’re probably playing with that gorgeous springer spaniel and that complete dingus Weimaraner mix, wondering why you chose _Bloodborne_ over them. Did _they_ tell you that you weren’t invited, or did your anxiety?”

Yuuri thought back through the conversation that had happened. Viktor saying that Alex invited him to play with dogs, Yuuri saying _oh, have fun_ , Viktor’s strange expression. “My anxiety. Fuck.” He reached for his phone.

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Just to be clear_

_When you said that AG invited you to play with dogs_

_You wanted me to come with you, didn’t you?_

_sorry. I fucked up._

 

He locked the phone and stuffed it into his pocket. “Okay. Gigi’s. I did check, and there’s no show tonight, which is lame because it’s Saturday and there should be, but it’s okay because now we’ll have to go back, but I think…I know he said he’s been to gay bars in Paris and Geneva with Chris before, but I’ve been to some of those places with Chris too, so I know Viktor has definitely never been to a place like Gigi’s. You think he’ll like it?”

Phichit stood up and offered Yuuri a hand. “Is Viktor going to like the best gay club in Detroit? Yes. Is he going to like seeing you in pole shorts dancing with random gogo boys and drag queens? Hell yes. You’re making me jealous, you know. I wanna take a deadly-hot man to Gigi’s.”

“Hands off; he’s mine.”  Yuuri’s phone began vibrating in his pocket.

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_{img}_

_{img}_

_{img}_

_{img}_

_{img}_

_YOU WISH YOU HAD THESE DOGS, YUURI_

_YOU WISH YOU WERE HERE RIGHT NOW_

_I ALSO WISH YOU WERE HERE RIGHT NOW_

_THE ONLY THING I LOVE MORE THAN DOGS IS YOU_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Sorry._

_I didn’t think I was invited and I didn’t want to stop you from going because I know how much you miss Makkachin._

 

“Alright,” Phichit said. “This time, you are letting me pick your outfit, and you are letting me do your makeup, and you are letting me do the same for your boyfriend, and you are going to keep yourself escondido while I work on him so that you can wow each other with my handiwork.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Of course, Phichit. I will let you do my makeup and dress me like a human-sized doll.”

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_I thought you *didn’t* want to go because of how much you miss Vicchan._

 

“So I guess I’ll just go shower, then? Give you a clean canvas to work on?”

“Yes, please. I will go assemble your ensemble for the evening.”

“Okay fine.”

“Do you want something that says ‘fuck me daddy’ or something that says ‘I lay claim to you’ or what?”

“Oh my god, Phichit. I just want to look good. No innuendos. Besides, clothes just come off eventually. We don’t really need them to speak for us, anyway.”

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_I guess we need to work on our mind-reading skills_

_Not that you’d want to read my mind_

_It’s mostly self-loathing and anxiety spirals_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_You wouldn’t want to read mine either_

_It’s mostly just a big litany of “what’s the point?” and “this is unfair”_

_I sound like a high schooler in my head._

_Maybe if I’d actually gone to high school, I wouldn’t be so immature._

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_I don’t think you’re too immature_ (づ￣ ³￣)づ

 

Yuuri tossed his clothes into a corner of the bathroom. Viktor was a little immature, yes, but occasionally so was Yuuri. He snapped a pic of his naked body in the mirror; he’d need to find the perfect moment to send it. Ever since Viktor had arrived and they’d been able to be together in person, the number of lewd photos they’d exchanged had sharply dwindled. The last one Yuuri had received had been at Four Continents while he was hanging out with Phichit and Leo de la Iglesia. If Viktor was hanging out with Alex Garrison and his dogs, it would be the perfect opportunity for a little revenge.

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_But you think I’m a little bit._

 

_To Vitya <3: _

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

_I love you tho_

(´,,•ω•,,)♡

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_{img}_

_Dog dog dog dog dog dog dog dog dog_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_I just hope you’re half as excited about tonight as that spaniel is about your face ;)_

_{img}_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

(*ﾟOﾟ*)

♡( ૢ⁼̴̤̆ ꇴ ⁼̴̤̆ ૢ)~ෆ♡

(￣ＴＴ￣)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!!
> 
> As a follow up/update on my life situation, since I know some of you are probably wondering, I have an appointment with a new primary care doctor as of today. But it's December 7th.
> 
> Tomorrow I'm going to call my doctor from Pennsylvania, and maybe I'll be going to PA for a few days next week instead. It'll be hella expensive, especially since I haven't been paid yet, but it's a much smaller practice and they're almost guaranteed to have time. I just have to be able to get there (it's a ten hour drive and I don't have a car). Fingers crossed!
> 
> Also, shoutout to Sharons everywhere. The therapist I used to see in PA was named Sharon, and I 100% named Viktor's new person after her.


	23. Chapter 23

**February 21, 2016, Early Morning – Geneva, Switzerland**

 

Christophe Giacometti pressed the light switch on and walked into his bedroom. He sighed at the empty bed; Mássimo would be back soon, he reminded himself again. Two more days, and Mássimo would be back. He moved to the dresser and pulled out fresh workout clothes, laid them on the bed and stretched his back before shucking his pajamas onto his pillow and dressing. It was 5:20 in the morning, and he was already behind schedule. Without Mássimo, he’d stayed in bed through two snoozes of his alarm. He sat and pulled socks over his feet, reached for his phone. The notification light in the top corner was blinking.

 

_ From Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ Soo, Vitya said he’s gone to gay bars with you and your partner before. What was that like? _

_ Oh shit I just noticed the time where you are; sorry! _

_ Vitya’s just kind of freaking out because someone took a picture of us when we were at dinner _

_ Which, yeah, we’re a couple and it’s not illegal here, but he does have to go back to St. Pt… _

_ But if he’s gone to gay bars before with you, then you must’ve had a way to get him through the door without being paranoid… _

_ not that it’s really paranoid…I mean, people literally are out to get him now… _

_ this was a bad idea; I should just ask him if he wants to go home _

_ this was a terrible idea _

_ I just wanted to go to Gigi’s with him. You remember it? From Skate America two years ago? _

_ I thought we could, I don’t know…disappear into the crowd. _

_ And you are clearly still asleep, so I will stop now. sorry again!! _

_ I just don’t want to fuck everything up, and that seems to be the way things are going. _

 

Yuuri was taking Viktor to Gigi’s, and Chris wished he was there to see it in person. If Yuuri could get them through the door, and if he let his guard down, Viktor would be in for a treat. He was about to reply to Yuuri when his phone began buzzing in his hand.

 

_ From Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ CHRISTOPHE I NEED YOUR HELP _

_ I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ON A DATE _

_ this paparazzo took a picture of us at the restaurant _

_ we weren’t even kissing, or holding hands at the moment _

_ but Yuuri’s already not good with paparazzi, and I… _

_ …  _

_ …  _

_ I was TOTALLY FINE before that BUT NOW IM NOT _

_ I don’t want to ruin this, Chris. _

_ Yuuri is going to get fed up with me. _

_ If I can’t even go on one normal date… _

_ He’s going to hate me if I can’t do this _

_ AND I DO WANT TO GO _

_ I DO I DO I DO _

 

Chris sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. He loved Viktor dearly, but every single time he’d been spotted out in public with Yuuri since arriving in Michigan, he’d texted Chris his fears of ruining their relationship with his inability to relax. Yuuri, from the few conversations he’d had with the Japanese skater since Viktor’s arrival there, was far from off-put. Yuuri was smitten, and Viktor didn’t need to be afraid of losing the relationship. If anyone would be willing to stay with Viktor through his particular complications, it was Yuuri. He returned to the chat with Yuuri and replied to him first before texting Viktor.

 

_ To Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ It’s fine; I woke up twenty minutes ago. Early morning run. _

_ Yuuri, darling, are you taking Viktor on a date? _

_ Gigi’s is the perfect place; I remember it clearly. _

_ Is he still worried? _

 

_ From Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ I…I don’t know. He’s acting like he isn’t, but maybe? _

_ I know he’s good at pretending to be okay, though… _

 

_ To Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ You can do this, Viktor. _

_ You are totally fine. _

_ You deserve to be able to enjoy yourself _

_ You deserve to be able to go on a date with your boyfriend _

_ You deserve it. _

 

Chris got up from the bed. It was 5:38, and he needed to get to his run. Josef would be pissed if he skipped it. He left the bedroom, zipping the phone into a hidden pocket built into his running pants. He laced his sneakers near the door, left the building and took off at a light pace. He’d barely gone a block before he felt his phone begin to buzz again. Carefully, he read the texts and replied while he jogged.

 

_ From Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ He’s saying he’s fine and that he wants to go still, but I don’t know _

_ Am I pushing him to do this? _

_ If he hates it, he’ll end up hating me _

_ If it blows up in the news, he’ll definitely hate me _

 

_ To Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ Just talk to him. Communication. _

_ Where are you right now? _

 

The reply didn’t come right away. Chris locked the screen and gripped his phone tightly while he picked up his pace. He ran three blocks, and he nearly tripped when the phone began to vibrate in his hand.

 

_ From Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ Yuuri’s having a panic attack and this is my fault. _

_ I am ruining everything. _

 

_ To Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ It’s going to be okay, darling. _

_ Where are you? _

 

_ From Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ Uber _

_ I’m kind of on edge… _

_ I ruin everything. _

 

_ To Yuuri (JGP Zagreb 2006): _

_ You ruin nothing. You need to talk to Viktor, though. _

_ Your relationship will go nowhere if you’re both texting me that you ruin everything. _

_ Neither of you will ruin anything if you communicate. _

_ Communication is essential. _

_ Talk to your boyfriend. Take him to Gigi’s. Make love to him later. _

_ Use condoms. _

_ It will be fine. _

 

Chris locked the phone and zipped it back into his pocket. He wondered, not for the first time, if it was smart for two people as messed up as Viktor and Yuuri to be in a relationship with each other, but he knew the pros outweighed the cons by a landslide. Without Yuuri in his life, Viktor had been a husk of a person, nothing more than an advertising smile and flawless perfection on the ice. With Yuuri, Viktor was vibrant and alive. His worries and fears had grown, but he was facing them bit by bit. One day, hopefully soon but perhaps not for years, Viktor would be completely free of the fear.

Gigi’s would help. Chris had dragged Viktor to gay bars in Paris and Geneva, yes, but they’d been more the dive bar style. Gigi’s, though. Beyond that coat check, Viktor was about to enter the world of American gay culture, and Chris already knew that Viktor would never be able to go back to his life of quiet repression. Viktor was about to be revolutionized, and for the rest of their night, he would be liberated.

He made it through another kilometer of his run before his phone buzzed again. He smiled in relief.

 

_ From Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ We’re okay now, I think. _

_ Is it stupid if we still go to the bar? _

_ Yuuri doesn’t want to skip it. _

 

_ To Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ Have fun. Use condoms. _

_ ;) _

 

With the advice sent, Chris silenced his phone completely and headed in the direction of his house. He could only help his friends a little bit before he needed some silence to get his mind prepped for a Sunday practice that he didn’t want but knew he needed. Yuuri was his friend. Viktor was his best friend outside of Mássimo. They were still his competitors, though, and he wanted to finally take that podium top.

He showered quickly, dressed in a different set of workout clothes for the rink, and headed to the subway. When he emerged from the underground at the stop nearest the rink, he looked at his phone for the time and saw a string of messages from Viktor. Gigi’s, as he’d assumed, was a perfect place to take Viktor Nikiforov on a date.

 

_ From Viktor (Euros 2007): _

_ {img} _

_ DID YOU KNOW THAT YUURI OWNS BOOTY SHORTS??? _

_ His ass is just! _

_ {img} _

_ {img} _

_ A man in a leather skirt and fishnets gave me a hot pink feather boa! _

_ I think I’m in heaven _

_ {img} _

_ I’m covered in glitter _

_ Glitter. _

_ Yuuri’s ass is covered in glitter. _

_ This is the best night of my life. _

_ I can’t believe I almost went home. _

_ OH MY GOD CHRIS _

_ I KNOW YOU KNOW, BUT _

_ I’VE NEVER REALLY TOLD YOU THIS IN THESE WORDS AND I HAVE TO SAY IT NOW _

_ I AM GAY _

_ {img} _

_ Yuuri. Is. On. A. Pole. _

_ {img} _

_ {img} _

_ SO GAY, CHRIS. VERY GAY. GAYEST GAY. _

_ I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 21, 2016, Early Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

Yuuri groaned and clung to his pillow, curled on his side. He felt Viktor’s body pressed next to his; space was tight on the twin bed, but there hadn’t been any question of sharing it since that first night.  _ Why was he awake _ ? He pulled the pillow over his head and blocked his ears. “Vitya— _ Vitya  _ your phone is ringing.”

Viktor stirred next to him, then sat up straight. He reached over Yuuri and grabbed the phone from where it sat, ringing loudly and too close to Yuuri’s ears. “ _ Privet? Da. _ ” He climbed over Yuuri and disappeared into the rest of the apartment.

Yuuri wondered who was on the phone, but tried not to let the thought occupy his mind too much. It was too bright; he groped around until he felt his hand brush against a navy blue face mask. He pulled the mask on over his eyes, snapping one of the elastic straps under his ears and the other over. He pulled the blanket over his head and shifted into the middle of the bed.

He woke again to the smell of coffee and a light, shaking pressure on his shoulder. “Nnn, no,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Yuuri, please? It was the lawyers.”

Yuuri groaned again, but pushed himself into sitting up. He pulled the facemask off of his eyes and left it resting on his forehead. “What’d they say?”

“The person who witnessed the last version of the will certified that he was completely of sound mind when he did it. I guess he had cancer…how do you say  _ pechen _ in English?”

“Dunno. What part of the body is it?”

Viktor traced a line along his abdomen, between his diaphragm and stomach. “It processes the alcohol? You cook them from cows and chickens?”

“Liver,” Yuuri said. “Liver cancer.”

“I guess he had problems with alcohol. I wasn’t aware.” Viktor sat next to Yuuri on the bed and grabbed his hand. “They’ve been contesting the will in lower courts, but even with me absent, my lawyers have been winning.”

“They don’t want you back there?”

“No. With…the fact that Yevgraf punched me gives them a lot of leverage, especially with how bad the bruising was and how the internet reacted to it. My lawyers want me to stay here so that their lawyers can’t challenge me on moral grounds. They think I’ll slip if I have to defend myself. There’s one last set of lower courts that they have to work through. If they win, I’ll have the money and the stock shares by the end of the week.”

“That’s good. That’s wonderful. What are you going to do with it?”

“First, I’m going to sell the stock, and I’m not going to sell it to  _ them _ . Then I’m going to donate it all.”

“Hmm, what kind of group are you going to donate it to?”

“I don’t know yet. I…I said I was going to donate it to gay rights, and that’s what got me punched. I...after I sell the stock, it’ll be about thirty-five million in American dollars.”

Yuuri whistled. “That’s just a  _ third _ of your dad’s estate?”

“He  _ was _ the wealthiest man in St. Petersburg. Yuu-tan? Are you okay?”

Yuuri nodded. “It’s just—that’s so much money. I don’t think everyone in Hasetsu  _ combined _ has even half that much money. I just…forgot that you came from money…”

Viktor pulled Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. “I was cut off when I moved into the dormitories, a few years before I was disowned,” he said. “The first couple of years, my last season as a junior and my first few years as a senior before I started winning gold reliably, I struggled with money a lot. I had a few sponsors, but between housing and Makkachin and all of the costs associated with skating, I was barely getting by. Yakov stopped charging me his coaching fees. If he hadn’t done that, there were times I wouldn’t have been able to eat. After I took my first World silver as a senior, I got the Chanel contract and the Gucci contract and things started to change.

“That was when I met the Zara boy—I had this meeting with their corporate office, to see if they’d sponsor me. I dropped in on one of their stores to check it out, and he was there working. He had no idea who I was, and I was already so used to everyone recognizing my face. It was exciting. We went on one date; I took him back to my hotel room. We got caught, and when my father found out, he confronted me about it…that’s the last time I saw my father. I…didn’t take the Zara sponsorship, but Yakov convinced me to cut my hair and change my image, and soon it didn’t matter that Zara didn’t work out because I was making a lot of money and dating a different supermodel every week.”

Yuuri ducked his head under Viktor’s face and pressed up into a kiss. “So, you went from lots of money to no money to lots of money again. And now you’re about to have even more money. You never thought about doing the whole sugar daddy thing?”

“The what?”

Yuuri blushed. “Nothing. It’s—Phichit made a joke once about me marrying my sugar daddy and moving into a mansion in Florida.”

“No. No Florida.”

“I know, right? Nothing against Florida, but if I want to be seasonally threatened by natural disasters, I’d rather move back to Japan.”

“What do…I don’t know that term, ‘sugar daddy.’ What does that mean?”

“Um…it’s like, wealthy dudes who pay women to hang out with them or date them or something like that. Like, lots of money. But somehow, not prostitution? I don’t know much about it, really. Phichit knows everything, though.”

“Do you…do you  _ want _ me to pay for things?”

“No.” Yuuri swung a leg over Viktor’s lap and straddled him. “Absolutely not.” He kissed him, deep and sweet, then heavy. When Viktor lay back on the bed, Yuuri followed him down. When Viktor craned his neck up, Yuuri met him halfway with his lips. When Viktor began to laugh, Yuuri drew away. “What?”

Viktor reached up and pulled the facemask off of Yuuri’s forehead. “Sorry. This is just…it was distracting me. Hey, don’t—I’m ticklish there.”

Yuuri poked the side of Viktor’s stomach a second time. “You mean right there?”

“Ye—wait.”

“What about this side?” Yuuri scratched the opposite side of Viktor’s body, light with his fingernails. “Are you ticklish here?”

Viktor squirmed under Yuuri. “Yes. Yuuri. Wait.”

“Okay.” Yuuri stopped teasing him. “What’s up?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve never really been tickled before, and it’s kind of weird.”

Yuuri crawled off of Viktor and got to his feet. “I have an older sister, so I got tickled a lot.” He walked toward the door. “I smelled coffee?”

Viktor jumped to his feet and latched his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “Don’t go?”

“Come with me?”

“Okay.”

They shuffled from Yuuri’s room to the kitchen, Viktor with his arms still around Yuuri’s waist and his back bent so he could rest his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri pulled two mugs from a cabinet and poured coffee from the pot into both. “Phichit, do you want coffee?” he yelled toward the other end of the apartment.

Phichit opened his bedroom door. “What I  _ want _ are details about last  _ night _ , you sluts. Bring me the java and the juice. Now. I will provide the hamsters.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and reached for a third mug. Once it was full and he’d added the right amount of soymilk and sugar to each mug, he carried them to Phichit’s room. “This would be easier if you’d let go,” he said to Viktor. Viktor responded by nuzzling his face into Yuuri’s neck and licking the top of his collarbone. Yuuri flinched. “Stop that; you’ll make me spill.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Phichit said. “The only time I have ever seen Yuuri drop anything related to food was when his hands were having uncontrollable withdrawal spasms. Yuuri has the poise of a long-time food service worker. There could be an earthquake and he’d still deliver your tea without a drop spilled.”

“I  _ am _ a long-time food service worker, and I’ve done that before. You know, Japan. Earthquakes are a thing we have.” Yuuri put the mugs down on Phichit’s desk. He and Viktor sat at the foot of Phichit’s bed, thighs and sides glued together. Yuuri handed Viktor his mug and picked up his own. Phichit deposited a hamster on each of their heads, then put Frau Blücher on his shoulder.

“Okay, so how was your date?” Phichit asked. The couple on the bed looked at each other, smiled and giggled. “That good?”

“Yuuri got glitter all over his ass.”

“Viktor brought home three feather boas. And I still have glitter on my ass.”

“Really?” Viktor asked. “Can I see?”

“I’ll show you later. Actual Teenager Phichit is right here.”

Phichit laughed. “Yuuri, I have seen your ass covered in glitter more than a few times in my life.  _ I _ told you to wear those pole shorts under your jeans. Was I wrong? No. Clearly not. Did you get on a pole?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Shut up. Of course I did. And you know what?”

“What?”

“Stone cold sober all night long.”

Phichit placed a hand over Frau Blücher to protect her and bounced up and down in his seat. “Yay yay yay good for you! I’m so happy for you! You used to need like, six shots before you’d dance in public! Did you do any breaking?”

“No, he didn’t. Unfortunately,” Viktor said. “I know it’s been mentioned that you know how, and I would love to see it.”

“Oh?” Yuuri said. He took a sip of his coffee. “Is that a challenge to a dance off?”

“No no no,” Viktor shook his head. “I’ve never…my dance training is entirely in ballet and classical ballroom. I’ve never…”

“Do you want to learn?” Yuuri asked with a smile. “I think I could teach you the basics.”

“Oh! I’ll film it for your vlog!” Phichit jumped from his chair and began digging through a pile of books and papers. “Let me find my camera.”

Viktor drank from his mug. “I would very much like to learn.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update on my life situation, because I know some of you at least are concerned: I talked with the receptionist at my PA doctor's office, and I don't have to go all the way back to PA (it would've cost about $300 in transportation alone) for them to give me a referral to the psychiatry practice here. I'll get the referral from PA, hopefully be able to see a psychiatrist sooner rather than later, and then see the new GP doctor in December.
> 
> I also found out that the doctor I have an appointment with is a friend of mine's doctor, and she really likes the woman, so that's good, too!
> 
> THANK YOU ALL AGAIN for your support and encouragement over the past week or so. It has made a noticeable and genuine, positive impact on my mental health. If it weren't for you all here, I never would have thought to call my doctor in PA, and I might not have worked up the courage to call the hospital on my own. Thank you, guys. You are all life-savers, in a very real sense. Thank you.


	24. Chapter 24

**February 22, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov Can’t Do a Downrock, And Other Stories** }

{icon image: Viktor and Yuuri side by side, Viktor on his ass and Yuuri holding a perfect freeze, all weight balanced on one hand}

110,805 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

 

Published February 20, 2016

Video description: PHICHIT EDITED THIS; IT’S INFLATED LIES – Viktor

Phichit edited this to ensure the truth got out – Yuuri

Phichit edited this FOR THE SHIPPERS TROLOLOLOLOL – Phichit

 

17,309 Comments

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**Kathryn Maartin** 2 days ago Holy fucking shit this is hilarious. First, Yuuri-kun being a secret b-boy is giving me life. Second, I have never once seen Viktor Nikiforov fall before this video. Never. Once. But damn does this make up for it.

        View all 309 replies

        **++nyanko-sensei is Madara Uchiha++** 2 days ago Kathryn Maartin that part where he just flops on the ground and is like, “how do you have so much stamina???” omg I fucken died

        **kk bye** 2 days ago Kathryn Maartin I am LIVING for the fall montage at the end of this vid. My favorite is the one where he like, has it and Yuuri isn’t paying attention, only to fall the minute Yuuri looks. Like, way to be smooth, Viktor. And Yuuri’s laugh—omg that precious angel voice. I think I ascended to heaven.

 

**ON THE SS VIKTUURI** 2 days ago THIS IS EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED IN LIFE THEY ARE SO IN LOVE AND YOU CAN’T TELL ME OTHERWISE THIS IS MAGIC AND PERFECTION AND YUURI-KUN’S LAUGH CURES CANCER AND NIKIFOROV FALLING ON HIS FACE AND YUURI LECTURING HIM ABOUT NOT GETTING ANOTHER BLACK EYE BEFORE WORLDS OMG THE LOVE THE LOVE THE LOVE THIS SHIP IS SAILING AT LIKE A THOUSAND KNOTS OKAY THANK YOU PHICHIT AND JESUS

        View all 400 replies

        **Down from the heavens descended Chuck Norris** 2 19 hours ago ON THE SS VIKTUURI the current speed sailing record is 65.45 knots and is held by Paul Larsen, who set said record in Namibia. Not this. This is not speed sailing. This is more like, a jet ski on a lake.

                    **Foxes don’t say anything** 10 hours ago Down from the heavens descended Chuck Norris hyperbole, noun. exaggerated statements or claims not meant to be taken literally. This is figure skating (or, um, breakdancing? actually?), not actual boats on actual water. Lord god almighty.

 

**Just another Chicago b-boy** 1 day ago Wow, Yuuri is actually really good at breaking.. And for a first timer, Viktor didn’t do terribly. I also really appreciate the like, three different times that Viktor said breakdance and Yuuri corrected him right away. It’s called *breaking* not breakdancing. Just further proves that Yuuri knows what he’s doing. As a semi-professional, I am impressed.

        View all 129 replies

        **Sunshine on my shoulders** 21 hours ago Just another Chicago b-boy I was actually wondering about that, so I’m glad I found this comment. I had no idea that people who do this don’t call it breakdancing. That’s the word I’ve always heard, so when Yuuri-kun kept correcting Viktor, I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just trolling Viktor because his English is better. If it’s not called breakdancing, then you guys don’t call yourselves breakdancers either, right? What do you say? I’m super intrigued/fascinated by this

                    **Just another Chicago b-boy** 11 hours ago Sunshine on my shoulders I am a b-boy. A lady would be a b-girl, or we could both be breakers. We definitely definitely don’t call ourselves breakdancers lol it’s kinda rude in the culture lmao

 

**ICE BREAKERS** 2 days ago Yuuri-kun, you will probably never see this comment, but we are a small group of performers that combine figure skating, hip hop and breaking based in Boston, Massachusetts. We would love to invite you to come skate with us if you’re ever in the area!!

        View all 14 replies

        **phichit+chu** 1 day ago ICE BREAKERS I’m flagging this down for him. Don’t worry; I got you ;)

        **Viktuuri Skate Vids** 1 hour ago ICE BREAKERS ARE YOU SERIOUS? I JUST WATCHED ALL OF YOUR VIDEOS! HOW DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT YOU??? THIS IS THE COOLEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO MEET YOU!!! – Yuuri

 

 

 

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri –[Nobody’s Listening](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJ87793QXes)** }

{icon image: Viktor and Yuuri side by side, hands touched in a high-five}

11,537 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

 

Published February 22, 2016

Video description: I came to Detroit to process emotions, instead I learned hip hop dancing. Does that count? – Viktor

Vitya: I know you know hip hop dance; I would like to see it. Me: Is that a challenge to a dance-off? Vitya: No, my training is entirely classical. Me: TIME TO FIX THAT PROBLEM, NIKIFOROV – Yuuri

We picked this song because it’s lowkey the best song on the Meteora album, and you can fight us if you disagree, but we'll win.

 

987 Comments

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**The Lady Amalthea** 4 hours ago Did we really get two new videos this week? Why are neither of them skating vids, though? And are these boys just both geniuses or something? They’re so in sync with each other they may as well be Early 2000s JT’s curly white hair. Like, are they even practicing for Worlds? Because their videos are entirely them goofing off. Not that they’re not doing beautiful work, but it’s true. They’ve choreographed multiple new routines that are complete enough that they only need to be polished up a little bit to be useful for competition, and now Yuuri is teaching Viktor breakdance? What? And they’re choreographing dance routines now, too? This is just beyond me. How do they have the hours in the day?? I. Don’t. Understand.

        View all 2 replies

        **Trelawney’s Tea Leaves** 4 hours ago The Lady Amalthea I know what you mean!! It’s like, I’ve loved their videos and the live stream that they did, but seriously—they’re not working on their actual routines at all. Viktor’s like, taking a vacation or something in the middle of the season, and Yuuri’s just hanging around, chilling out with him. Are they even going to be prepared for Worlds? Will this be the year that Christophe finally takes gold?

        **Viktuuri Skate Vids** 4 hours ago The Lady Amalthea (and also @Trelawney’s Tea Leaves) we are both practicing several hours a day. Yuuri’s coach, Celestino Cialdini, has been kind enough to give me a handful of suggestions and ice time in exchange for help with his younger skaters, and Yakov has been working with me remotely. Yuuri has also benefitted from this, as Yakov has given him a few tips through my video as well. We work well together, and I expect you’ll see us both better than we’ve ever been in time for Tokyo. “Goofing off” like this is one of the ways we have both been able to release some stress and tension. Thanks for your concern! – Viktor

 

**Marry me Mike Shinoda** 4 hours ago Okay but I was already thinking that Viktor would skate to “Numb” ever since they did that live stream and he talked about feeling empty inside most of the time, and I thought about it a lot and that song just kind of fit him, so I’m kind of surprised they went with “Nobody’s Listening” instead. Not that it’s a bad song or anything. I guess it’s just since “Numb” is more famous and kind of perfection. But this fits better with the style of dance they’re doing, so it makes sense. I’m a super big Linkin Park fan, so this just makes me really happy.

        View all 54 replies

        **Viktuuri Skate Vids** 4 hours ago Marry me Mike Shinoda I thought about “Numb,” but I was also thinking about doing “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd, and their names are similar, so I couldn’t do both, but I couldn’t decide between them! I even flipped a coin, but it rolled under the sofa, and I couldn’t reach it without disturbing Makkachin, so I decided it wasn’t meant to be a while ago. I also really relate to the bridge in this song where he says “heart full of pain head full of stress handful of anger held in my chest” because it’s very close to how I felt when I was younger (less anger now, thankfully). Yuuri recommended the album, and this line really stuck with me. – Viktor

                    **Marry me Mike Shinoda** 4 hours ago Viktuuri Skate Vids HOLY FUCKING SHIT VIKTOR NIKIFOROV REPLIED TO ME WHAT IS THIS??? IS THIS THE REAL LIFE?

                                **Viktuuri Skate Vids** 4 hours ago Marry me Mike Shinoda is this just fantasy? – Yuuri (okay and NOW WE ARE GETTING OFFLINE BECAUSE PRACTICE)

 

**Disquietude** 3 hours ago I looked through the comments and I guess I missed them still being online, and now I am sad. BUT THIS DANCE IS FUCKING LIT!!! It’s so cute the way they kind of trade in and out with high fives, but then do some stuff together, and then when Yuuri does all that cool spinny stuff on the floor and I swear I’m not gay, but dude. I would bend a little bit for either of them.

        View all 97 replies

        **Hachikuji Mayoi is Best Girl** 3 hours ago Disquietude THEY ARE TOGETHER, YOU CAN’T HAVE THEM!!! but seriously dude, I know what you mean. I am definitely a straight girl, so they are definitely within my purview of people I am attracted to. And they are both just so hot I can’t even. Like, woof. BUT I WOULD RATHER GO DOWN WITH THE SHIP because they are perfect for each other!!!!!

        **King of the Bongo Bong** 2 hours ago Disquietude I know what you mean about the bending a little bit, bro. I am 100% attracted to women. Except when Yuuri is on my screen (so 99% attracted to women). I have legit fapped to Katsuki Yuuri, and I am not ashamed. I swear to god, he’s like a fucking anime trap. He’s basically Hideyoshi. I’d tap that. Either of them. So fucking hot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 23, 2016, Morning – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri watched Viktor run through his short program on the ice while he tied his own laces tightly. Viktor skating was a miracle of motion—perfect grace and balance, poise that Yuuri could never hope to achieve. As much as he’d always been mesmerized by Viktor’s skating growing up, he found himself so much more drawn to it when Viktor skated in nothing but training gear with two or three other skaters hanging around the edge of the rink, too distracted from their own practice by the marvel that was _Viktor Nikiforov on the ice_. Yuuri felt his heart lodge in his throat. Viktor was beautiful, so much beyond a dream. How could Yuuri even hope to keep him around? Soon, too soon, he’d go back to St. Petersburg for the final two weeks before Worlds so that he could work out any last kinks in his programs with Yakov in person, and Yuuri would stay in Detroit for those two weeks until…Tokyo was so far away.

It still surprised him that Viktor had come running to _him_ after the reading of the will. Yuuri wasn’t special; he wondered sometimes if Viktor only liked him because of how skilled Yuuri was at getting him off. It wouldn’t surprise him, since that’s all he’d ever been good for before. Yuuri shook his head, slapped his cheeks. Viktor wasn’t like that. Viktor wasn’t Pres.

He glanced up and caught Viktor’s eye; the skater on the ice sent him a shy wave. _Shy_. Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov had never once been shy, but Vitya—his Vitya, Yuuri’s Vitya, was sometimes painfully so. Yuuri beamed a smile back at him, swallowed down the beating lump of anxiety in his throat. He couldn’t let himself get trapped in it, not now. Not at the rink, not with Viktor right there. He needed to press it down. He could confront the issue later; for now, he just needed to skate.

With one last check of his boots, Yuuri removed his guards and slid out toward the center of the ice where Viktor was performing the final combination spin of his short program. Viktor pulled out of the spin and into his end pose, then broke it quickly to meet Yuuri.

“What did you think?” Viktor asked.

“It was different from how you usually do it,” Yuuri said. “Your jumps were in a completely different order.”

“Mmhmm,” Viktor nodded. “Yakov has us practice each routine three ways: standard, variation one and variation two. The variations are meant to help in case we fall at any point during a competition. If I were to miss the first jump, I would switch to variation one. If I miss the second jump, I’d switch to variation two.”

He couldn’t help but scoff a little. “You never miss jumps,” he said. “And what if someone misses all of their jumps?”

“You’re not going to miss all of your jumps,” Viktor said. He reached and traced his finger along Yuuri’s jawline, pulled closer to him and whispered, “You’re going to land them all and chase Chris to the other side of the podium. And next year, you’re going to unseat me from my throne. I can’t wait to see the gold medal on you, love.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but he could feel his entire chest blushing under his shirt. “I doubt that’s going to happen,” he said.

Viktor brightened up, said loudly, “Not if you don’t let me choreograph for you. I already have a song in mind for you, so you should say yes.”

“Um.”

“Please?”

“Okay…um…”

“Okay?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Viktor repeated. “I can work with ‘maybe.’ Trust me, Yuuri, you won’t be disappointed. I will come up with choreography that’s actually worthy of you.”

Yuuri smiled and skated away from Viktor, backwards. “Maybe,” he said, grin still planted in the muscles of his face. He kept the grin until he turned away, then tucked it back into neutral. Warmups. He needed to focus on his warmups. He couldn’t think about Viktor choreographing for him, couldn’t let himself think about the commitment that would entail. Viktor would have to stay close to him as a choreographer, at least for a little while. He could…he could earn Viktor’s time, if he tried hard enough. If he skated well enough and really did manage to defeat not only Chris, but Cao as well, and all of the other skaters who’d come in ahead of him at the GPF.

The GPF had been a new low for him, his lowest score of the past two seasons. He’d fallen, and fallen, and fallen. He’d fallen enough on the ice and in spirit that he’d braced himself for one final fall…but Viktor had caught him before he’d started his own long way down. _Suicide_ , that’s what had brought them together. Failed attempts at suicide. Somehow, they’d become each other’s support, pillars against the onslaught of darkness in each of their minds. Once Viktor was adjusted to the Zoloft he was now taking, would he no longer find a need for Yuuri?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 23, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

Viktor was brushing his teeth when Yuuri knocked on the bathroom door. Toothbrush still in his mouth, he opened the door for Yuuri.

“Vitya, your phone was ringing. I don’t know who it was because I can’t read Cyrillic. I, um.” Yuuri held up the phone, “I brought it to you. Sorry.”

Viktor took the toothbrush in hand and spat into the sink. “Why are you sorry? Thank you. Give me half a minute.” He rinsed first the brush, then his mouth, hands cupping under a stream of cool water from the faucet. His mouth had been dry the past few days, so he drank a handful of water once the remnants of the toothpaste had gone down the drain. When he finished, he dried his hands on a towel and took the phone from Yuuri. “ _Blyad_ ,” he said when he looked at the missed calls. His stomach dropped.

“Who…who was it?” Yuuri asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, “This number is blocked from people who call to sell things, and I haven’t given it out to anyone in Russia in months. None of my sponsors would hand out my contact information.”

Yuuri began fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, and Viktor had to resist the urge to still his lover’s hands. “It has to be a relative. They’re the only people who have my number whose numbers I don’t also have. Should—it’s the middle of the night in St. Petersburg. Should I call back?” Whoever it was, he didn’t want to call back.

“I wouldn’t,” Yuuri said. He leaned on the door frame. “You don’t owe them anything.”

The phone began ringing in Viktor’s hand; he fumbled it into the air before it fell on the ground. A small, tinny voice came through the earphone in Russian, “Viktor? Viktor, are you there?”

Viktor picked up the phone. “ _Privet_? Who’s calling?”

“Viktor, it’s your cousin—Boris Antipov.”

“Boris? I didn’t have your number.”

“I took yours from our uncle’s phone. Listen, I—”

“It’s quite late in St. Petersburg, isn’t it? It’s already evening time here.”

“ _Da_. Listen, I’ve been following you on social media.”

“Oh?” Viktor tugged at the collar of his shirt, the fabric suddenly too close to his skin and his neck. “Are you a fan of figure skating?”

“My mother asked me to be a character witness against you so that they can contest the will on moral grounds.”

“Are you calling to warn me, Boris?”

“ _Nyet_ , Viktor. I’m…I intend to refuse the request. After getting to know you a little more through your public image, I’ve decided that I would rather side with you than with my mother and our uncle. When you return to St. Petersburg, I want you to know that you will have an ally in me.”

Viktor silently pulled the lid down on the toilet and sat on the fuzzy blue cover. He placed an elbow on his knee and rested his head on his hand, fingers pushing past the hairline and into the hair. “I don’t know why you’d do that, if I’m being honest. It will ultimately only short you on your own inheritance.”

“I don’t care,” Boris said. “I feel a conviction to support you, so I will. Your lover seems nice. I’m pleased you found someone who will love you, since no one in our family knows how to love, myself included. You really are too kind for the Nikiforovs, Viktor. Too genuine. I recently watched the footage of that live stream you did from that diner with your lover’s musician friend and the other skater. I’ve come to admire you quite a lot. I will throw my support behind you; please do donate at least some of that money towards your rights.”

Viktor’s mouth was uncomfortably dry again. He swallowed, attempted to salivate. “I intend to.”

“You may not be able to continue representing Russia if you do.”

“I know.”

“I’m not worried about you, Viktor. Your lover seems to be as kind and as genuine as you are. I’m sure he’d rather have you stay with him.”

“Is it that obvious, Boris? Is it that clear to everyone in Russia?”

“I would think so,” Boris said, “if not for the fact that the video of your live stream appears as region-blocked for Russia. I had to trick my computer into thinking I was in America to watch it. Fortunately, I am quite good at tricking my computer into thinking I am in America.”

Viktor laughed, something small and feeble, but a laugh all the same. “Thank you, Boris,” he said. “I will take your words to heart.”

“Good. Good night, cousin. It is, indeed, quite late here.”

“Good night.” Viktor moved the phone away from his ear and ended the call.

Yuuri was still leaning on the door frame, scratching his arm. Viktor stood and walked to Yuuri, pulled him into a hug and led him out of the bathroom and toward the bedroom.

They sat together on the bed, sides pressed together, Viktor’s arm slung around Yuuri’s shoulders and Yuuri’s arm wrapped around his waist. Yuuri didn’t ask questions, just waited for Viktor to talk. Viktor tried to gather his thoughts, but he was distracted by how much he loved Yuuri, how much he valued the younger man’s patience. Viktor would be nowhere without Yuuri; he could no longer imagine a life lacking in Yuuri’s love. He wondered what would happen the day that patience ran out, the day Yuuri decided he’d rather be alone than with someone so afraid of himself. It would happen, and then…maybe along with that money, he’d end up in possession of one of his father’s guns. Maybe the same one that should have taken his life before.

It wasn’t healthy, to let his reason for living be Yuuri. Yuuri couldn’t be the path. Yuuri was on the path with him, but he couldn’t be the foundation that Viktor needed. He knew this, but whenever he imagined the moment that Yuuri would leave him, he felt the ground shake inside himself. His arm tightened around Yuuri’s shoulders. He needed more than three weeks of intensive therapy, more than sertraline hydrochloride. He wanted more than hidden kisses away from the paparazzi, more than the secrecy that he’d already been pushing to the edge in their held hands on busses, trips to museums and diners and nicer, mid-class restaurants. He needed more, and he wanted. He didn’t know what Yuuri would want.

Boris was the same age as Yuuri, and he claimed to accept him. Georgi, too, had accepted him without a moment’s hesitation. The little Yuri didn’t even conceive of any problem when he’d learned that Viktor was gay. If…his generation, Yuri Plisetsky’s generation…if they could accept him, then maybe…could that be enough? For a small handful of peers and teens to welcome him while the rest of the nation shuttered its windows and locked its doors? He would never be able to live in Russia unless something happened to enact change. Something, _someone_. Viktor didn’t know who would lead the charge, but he prayed that they would do it soon.

He shivered, and Yuuri swung his legs over Viktor so that he was half in his lap. He brought his other arm around the front of Viktor’s waist and held him around the middle, cheek pressed to chest. Viktor was aware of the beating of his own heart, the way it pulsed to meet Yuuri’s chin. “Yuu-tan,” he said, “I think I’m retiring from competition at the end of this season.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything, but tightened his grip on Viktor.

“When I do,” Viktor continued, “wherever you are…can I please stay with you?”


	25. Chapter 25

**February 26, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Windsor, Canada**

 

{link}

{ **Figure Skater Viktor Nikiforov Inherits U$D 35 Million After Civil Suit** }

_ Three-time Olympian and World Champion Viktor Nikiforov, already valued at 15 million in American currency and one of the wealthiest figure skaters of all time, has just inherited the equivalent of 35 million dollars from his late father, Andrei Nikiforov. At the time of his death, Andrei Nikiforov was considered the wealthiest man in St. Petersburg. His estate—a total net worth of 105 million dollars—was directed in his will to be divided evenly between his son and two surviving siblings, Yevgraf Nikiforov and Irina Nikiforova Antipov. The star athlete’s relatives, in a move that we can only imagine to be a mean-spirited publicity stunt to capitalize on Nikiforov’s fame, contested the will through lower courts in an attempt to divest their nephew of his inheritance. _

_ While Nikiforov himself was not present throughout the process, his legal team battled on his behalf, citing grievous injury caused by Yevgraf Nikiforov as cause for Nikiforov’s absence. Fans of the skater will know that Nikiforov has been in Detroit, Michigan training temporarily under Celestino Cialdini. They may also remember that Nikiforov arrived in Detroit sporting a noticeable black eye. Since arriving, the sports icon has begun to open up to his fans about a secret struggle with depression and a less-than-ideal childhood. While he’s been keen to avoid the details of that black eye, it seems clear that either directly or indirectly, Yevgraf Nikiforov is the cause of it. _

_ Many fans are speculating on what Nikiforov will do with his robust inheritance. With the end of the skating season coming in just under six weeks, perhaps a nice vacation is in order? _

 

 

 

 

Yuuri stepped through the doorway into the parking lot and pulled the door shut behind him. He waved to Francesca before jogging over to her car. With a quick tug of the passenger door, he slid into the seat and buckled. “Thanks again,” he said. “For waiting.”

“Don’t mention it,” Francesca said. “Do you have any pharmacy stops today?” She started the car, the engine revving to life while the sound system sputtered from electric power to the burn of gas.

“No, thankfully. Not for another month, I don’t think.”

“So?” she said as she navigated out of the parking lot and onto the road. “What’s the prognosis?”

Yuuri smiled. “I’m in the clear.”

Francesca grinned. “That means you can celebrate now, right?”

“Mmhmm. She said that the chances I’d have prolonged symptoms were slim, and since the two-month mark already passed over a week ago, then she’s officially declared me out of withdrawal.”

“Wonderful. Why don’t you text the boys that dinner's on me tonight? Tino and I will take you anywhere you want to go, Yuuri.”

“Okay. Do you…do you think Celestino will care about our training diets, since it’s a celebration?”

Francesca cautioned a glance and winked at Yuuri before turning her eyes back to the road. “Don’t worry; I’ll handle it. Anywhere, anything you want.”

Yuuri pulled out his phone. “Okay. I’m not sure yet.”

“Sure,” she said as she merged onto the highway. “Just let me know by five if you want a place that might need a reservation.”

He nodded and opened his messenger app.

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ Dinner’s on Francesca. Where should we go? _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ I LOVE THAT WOMAN _

_ SECOND MOM _

_ She is the best _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Ooh is this a group chat? I have never taken part in a group chat before. _

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ Food. Free. What do you want? _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Something surprising ;) _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ oooo _

_ did you do that on purpose? _

_ or do you really want something surprising? _

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, locked the phone. “They’re no help,” he said. He sat in silence while they passed through the border, the American agents on duty already familiar with their faces and license plates. He sighed and leaned his forehead on the window. “We could go to Palma.”

“The Bosnian place in the yellow building?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, that works for me. You, Phichit and Viktor plus me and Tino. Do you want to invite anyone else? I can’t drive them, but if you want one or two more people and they can meet us there, that would be fine.”

“Hmm…” Yuuri said. He opened his phone, ignored the conversation happening between Viktor and Phichit.

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Do you and Lev or AG want to join for dinner? _

_ Francesca is paying _

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ CAN’T BECAUSE MIRIAM COHEN KILL ME NOW _

_ but you have NO IDEA how much I would love to get out of this _

_ I am probably marrying into the same family as this wretched woman. _

_ What is wrong with me. _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Shit good luck. Do it for Lev. _

_ btw I’m officially not in benzo withdrawal _

_ fucking finally _

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ YAAAAAAAY!!!! _

_ Is that why Chessie is paying? _

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ Yes _

 

“Ketty says they can’t make it, so I guess it’ll just be us. If it’s really okay, I mean—”

“I’ve never actually tried Palma before; is it good? It’s been on our list for a while now, but you know how Tino gets.”

“Uh huh,” Yuuri said. “I went once. I liked it a lot.” He looked at the ill-fated group message again.

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ Like, seriously though. Who does that? _

_ It was perfectly good, usable film! _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Don’t people toss their perfectly good smartphones when the next model comes out? _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ rood _

_ {gif} _

_ I’ve got my eye on you, Nikiforov _

_ #watertribe _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Another reference I do not understand. But it looks funny? _

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ Water. _

_ Earth. _

_ Fire. _

_ Air. _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ YAY YUURI IS BACK HI MY PLATONIC LOVE _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Hi, my erotic love ;) _

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony, but then _

__

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE FIRE NATION ATTACKED _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Yes, I get it, I’m “sheltered” as you both have put it. _

_ Whatever this is, we can watch it later? _

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ We’re going to Palma for dinner. I decided, and it’s my party. _

_ It’ll take a while to get through all of Avatar, but we should definitely probably do that _

_ #zutaraorbust _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ KATAANG _

 

_ To Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont, Vitya <3: _

_ no. _

_ wrong. _

_ Anyway, we have to be ready soon, ok? _

 

_ From Phichit Hamsterlord Chulanont: _

_ Cool. Can I wear your unicorn shirt? _

_ We need to go out tonight afterwards. Properly. Gigi’s. _

_ There’s gonna be a show tonight... _

_ Viktor needs it, Yuuri. _

 

Francesca pulled up in front of Yuuri’s building. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she said, “so be ready to break all the diets you want.”

Yuuri grinned. “I’m going to do just that, don’t worry.” He got out of the car and waved goodbye as he jogged toward the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**February 27, 2016, Morning – Detroit, United States**

With his earbuds in and the music loud enough to drown out the sound of traffic, Yuuri didn’t even feel the beat of his sneakers against the pavement. He ran, steady and even in pace, along his familiar route with Viktor and Phichit running alongside him. They approached an intersection, and he checked from left to right to left again before crossing the street and continuing. A block passed, and they were entering campus. He kept his gaze ahead, feet planting and lifting and propelling him forward, breath even and in time with the steps. Running wasn’t his favorite training activity, but on cool Saturday mornings like this one, it helped him find an internal balance, a cliché zen state that could keep him calm and keep his thoughts at bay for the rest of the day, if he was lucky. A good run was almost as good as an hour on the ice.

He slowed when he noticed a change in his peripherals. “Vitya?” The Russian skater had come to a stop. Yuuri and Phichit doubled back to him. “You okay?” Yuuri asked as he popped a bud out of his ear.

Viktor pointed to a wide tree lining the path through campus. “Camera guy back there.”

“You wanna turn back?” Phichit asked, looking toward the tree and toward Viktor again. Of the three of them, Phichit had the least experience with paparazzi. He was still mildly unknown as a skater, his fame built on Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter. That would change in the next season; his fourth place finish at 4CC had scored high enough to be ceded into the Grand Prix.

Yuuri focused on Viktor—smiling, bright and fake. Behind that grin, he looked nervous, scared even. “Yeah, it’s too early for the press. Let’s go?”

Viktor nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “Normally, I don’t mind them, but lately…there are fewer people following me here, and I guess I’m growing spoiled.”

Yuuri patted his shoulder. “It’s not spoiled to want privacy, Vitya. Let’s just go to the rink or something.”

They each did a quick stretch of their legs, shaking out the muscles that they’d suddenly stopped using and hoping to avoid a buildup of lactic acid. Before they could set off in the opposite direction, a man with a handheld recorder jogged up to them. “Excuse me! Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki! Could I ask you a few quick questions?”

Yuuri heard him before he saw him and jumped. His heart, which had started to slow back down with the pause in the run, jolted into an even more rapid pace than before. He clutched at his chest with one hand, grabbed Viktor’s shoulder with the other. “Shit that scared me.”

Phichit cleared his throat. “We were actually just leaving, sorry.” The paparazzo behind the tree came out and began taking pictures, slowly walking closer.

The man held the recorder out to Viktor. “Just a couple questions, Mr. Nikiforov.”

“We’re leaving,” Phichit stepped in front of Viktor and leaned into the recorder. “I just told you that we’re leaving. Viktor’s busy, so is Yuuri.” He pushed the recorder back at the man and grabbed both Viktor and Yuuri by their wrists, tugging them in the direction of home. “Come on, let’s go.”

“When are you going back to Russia?”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said, media training taking over. “As my younger colleague just said, we’re in the middle of a training run and don’t have time to answer your questions.”

Yuuri wasn’t hiding behind Viktor, but he was hiding behind Viktor. They’d only been approached about a half dozen times since Viktor had arrived in Detroit, but each time was more unsettling than the last. Their interrupted date had been the worst paparazzo so far, but the one making his way toward them now looked familiar, and the man with the recorder kept stepping in their way when they tried to get around him. They needed to leave. They’d already said…

“What do you intend to do with all that inheritance money?”

“I haven’t decided, now will you please let us pass?”

“Is your relationship with Mr. Katsuki sexual in nature?”

“Leave Yuuri alone,” Viktor said. He pushed the recorder away and tried again to step around the man, Yuuri still half-hidden behind his back.

The reporter pushed the device under Yuuri’s nose. Yuuri balked and blinked, stepped back. The reporter pushed closer. “Have you been taking advantage of your intimacy with Mr. Nikiforov to further your skating career?”

Yuuri froze, breathing shallow. Viktor stepped between them. “Leave Yuuri alone,” he repeated.

Phichit, forgotten and ignored by the reporter, tugged on the backs of their shirts. Behind them, fifty meters away and across a slush-covered lawn, was the student center. He caught Viktor’s eyes, then Yuuri’s, motioned toward the building with a slight jerk of his head. Without another word to the reporter, the trio turned and sprinted toward the doors.

The reporter and the paparazzo both chased, but even after about a third of their 10k run, the three athletes reached the building before the two pursuants came close. Once inside, Yuuri naturally gravitated toward the stairwell, up one flight, into the women’s restroom with the foam bench.

In the bathroom, he collapsed onto the bench. In the heat of their escape, he hadn’t had time to think, but behind the safety of the bathroom door, he began hyperventilating. He tried to drag in a deep breath, choked on the air. Phichit sank onto the bench, sitting directly over the picked-out hole in the foam, and patted Yuuri’s back while he coughed.

Viktor sank into a squat in front of Yuuri. “Hey,” he said. “Can I hold your hands?” When Yuuri nodded, Viktor picked up the hands, massaged them each gently with his thumbs. He placed one over the center of his chest and began breathing deeply.

Yuuri felt the vibrations of Viktor’s body through his fingers and palm, tried to match his breathing with the man in front of him. He faltered at first, but Viktor kept his own pace even and held more tightly onto his other hand. Phichit, Yuuri realized, had begun to rub circles into his back in time with Viktor’s breathing. Yuuri began to relax under their care, matched his breath to Viktor. When the worst of it had passed, he sighed and collapsed forward, dropping his forehead onto Viktor’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he said.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Viktor said. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop him more effectively.”

“It’s not your fault either, Viktor,” Phichit said. “That guy was a creep. How often does that happen to you, anyway?”

“I don’t know?” Viktor said. “Less here than at home. If it’s close to a major competition, I can’t go more than a day or two without getting stopped on the street. Plus, we have more people who hang around outside of the rink trying to get information. It wasn’t as bad when I was younger, but I think it started happening after I won the JGPF right before I turned sixteen.”

“That was the bondage costume,” Phichit said.

“Phichit!”

The Thai skater grinned. “What? That’s what  _ you _ called it, Yuuri.”

“Oh?” Viktor said. He rocked out of the squat and sat cross-legged on the floor. “I definitely wasn’t thinking that when I was fifteen, but I can see what you mean. Isn’t that the season I was your gay awakening?”

“This is how I die.”

Phichit took a moment to process what Viktor had said before laughing so hard he doubled over. “Oh. My. God. Yuuri, you told him that. I would  _ never _ tell my gay-awakening-person that they were my gay awakening.”

“Vitya, I’m dying. Donate my organs for me?”

“Calm down, Katsuki,” Phichit said through stifled laughter. “I’m actually like, super impressed. I know you can get really embarrassed about it. When did you have this conversation?”

“That was the night we tried to kill ourselves,” Viktor said. “I accidentally talked about being attracted to men, and Yuuri told me about watching me on tv when he was twelve. Seven or eight hours later, we were making out in a dim hotel room.”

“This is true,” Yuuri said. “That is what happened.”

“Don’t tell Yakov,” Viktor winked at Phichit. “He specifically told me I wasn’t allowed to skip the banquet to hook up with a hot boy.”

“That’s not  _ why _ you skipped the banquet,” Yuuri said. “It was just a happy consequence of a strange coincidence.”

“True,” Viktor said. “A very happy consequence. Yuuri, are you feeling okay now?”

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri said. “I don’t want to go back out there yet, though. They are probably staking out the building.”

“Ketty told you she would rescue you,” Phichit said. “Do you think she’d come get us in her car?”

Yuuri pulled out his phone.

 

_ To Ketty: _

_ We got chased by paparazzi into the women’s room with the couch _

_ Save us? _

 

He didn’t have to wait long for her reply.

 

_ From Ketty: _

_ omw _

_ don’t tell Miriam ;) _

 

 

 

 

 

 

{link}

{ **Viktuuri Proof 2.0** }

Hey, y’all crazy cats! Three weeks ago, I did a roundup of evidences for the beautiful real-life ship of Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki. You can check it out  here if you want, but a quick rundown of that:

 

1) Viktor and Yuuri met at the GPF when Yuuri was not doing well, and that started something beautiful.

2) Viktor and Yuuri went from being strangers to being very close very quickly.

3) They have a YouTube channel and it’s brilliant

4) There were those pictures from after the GPF where Yuuri and Celestino were out for brunch with the Russian team, and in a few of them, Viktor and Yuuri were looking at each other like they’d each hung the moon and stars

 

NOW, MY FRIENDS, things have changed. These boys have all but confirmed their relationship, and any person with two eyes and a heart can see it, but for the naysayers and haters and homophobes out there, here’s a roundup of everything couple-y they’ve done since Viktor went to Detroit!

 

1) Viktor went to Detroit. I know, I just said the list started after, but I think this is really important. We now know that he had some kind of falling out with his family because of a dispute over his father’s will. He chose to go to Detroit, of all places, to regroup emotionally and prepare for Worlds because Yuuri was there. He left his home behind to be with Yuuri when he was in distress. This is fucking beautiful.

2) The paparazzi pictures on the bus. I know it was blurry, but they were clearly smashed next to each other in that seat, and I know we can’t see it, but if you did a line analysis of their bodies, it definitely looks like they’re holding hands or something. Friends don’t sit that close to each other.

3) Viktor’s tweets during 4CC. He was so excited for Yuuri getting on that podium! Also, Yuuri said in the press conference afterward that he’d changed his programs based on Viktor’s suggestions.

4) I dunno if anyone else is noticing this, but Yuuri calls Viktor “Vitya.” I’m not an expert on Russian names, but from what I’ve gathered on google, only people who are like, close to Viktor would call him that. So that means they’re close. It doesn’t  **necessarily** mean that they’re in love, but it does mean  _ something _ .

5) The restaurant shots. Now, I know it is not okay to for paparazzi to follow celebrities around just to take pictures of them in compromising situations, but I kind of loved seeing them in that restaurant together. Like, just casual, looking nice, eating chicken or whatever they had. Staring into each other’s eyes. There was a candle on the table and a chandelier. Candle and chandelier. I don’t care what you say; that was a date. So, I mean, shame on the dude who ruined their date, but that. was. a. date.

6) The dance videos on their skating channel. They just. ugh. oh my god. Just. Watch them yourself.  Here and  here . They are precious and funny and snarky, and look damn fine in dance gear. And guess what, again, so much palpable intimacy. Palpable. I learned that word just because I needed it to describe those videos.

7) MOST IMPORTANTLY, we absolutely CANNOT FORGET the live stream. “I’m a public figure in Russia.” – Viktor Nikiforov, on whether or not he’s dating his competitor. Like, that is someone who is trying and failing so hard to keep his relationship under wraps because he’s in the closet. And I think he must be more or less in the closet. He’s never once come out publicly as gay, and Russia is pretty homophobic. I  [ looked it up ](http://www.equaldex.com/region/russia) after the stream, and  [ a 2013 poll showed that 74% of Russians ](http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2013/08/05/russias-anti-gay-laws-in-line-with-publics-views-on-homosexuality/) believed that homosexuality should not be accepted in society. I get that me writing this is probably gonna make it worse for him in the short run, but in the long run, Viktor, if you ever see this (unlikely), please know that I ACCEPT YOU AND YOUR RELATIONSHIP, WHICH IS TOTALLY REAL AND NOT A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION.

 

In conclusion, Viktuuri is real, Russia is shit, and I am a part of the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two years ago I won a spooky story contest within my MFA program. I dropped a link to it in one of the comments on the last chapter, but I reread it, and it's not bad, and it's late October, so here's a link, if you're interested! (The contest runs every semester, and the rules are that it has to be spooky and it has to involve Plant Hall, one of the buildings at the University of Tampa)
> 
> https://steventhomashowell.com/2015/02/02/plant-hall-spooky-story-contest-winners/
> 
> That semester, there was a tie. Mine is "The Bruja's Gift to the Cat," but I also really recommend the other story, if you decide to check it out. Carolyn, the author of it, just recently read a different award-winning scary story at A Toast Among Ghosts in Baltimore.
> 
> If you read them, I hope you enjoy them!


	26. Chapter 26

**March 2, 2016, Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

Viktor’s phone was buzzing in his pocket, and he tried to ignore it in favor of the GSA meeting happening around him, but the vibrations persisted. Yakov was calling. With a dramatic sigh, Viktor stepped outside of the room. “ _ Privet?  _ Yakov?”

“Vitya, you’ve been ignoring my calls.”

Viktor puffed out his lower lip, whined the pout into his voice. “You’ve been calling when I’m asleep. It’s not the same.”

“You shouldn’t  _ be _ asleep at nine in the morning.”

“It’s a different schedule here. Out of my control.”

Yakov made a noise halfway between a tsk and a groan. “Do you have your flight booked yet?”

“March twelfth, don’t remind me.”

“I  _ will _ remind you. And I’ll remind you of this, too: your actions are observed and noted, Viktor. Even when you’re abroad. I’ve already had half your sponsors and the FFKK breathing down my neck about your behavior in America.”

“Sorry.” Viktor wasn’t too familiar with this building, but he knew if he walked down this hallway to the end…there, a back stairwell. Slipping behind the industrial-style door and checking down and up the stairs, he felt a calm certainty that he was alone.

“Don’t be sorry; be smarter. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager, and it’s splashing all over the internet to see.”

“Hey, we region-blocked the footage of the live stream, just in case. And we agreed no more live streams. Everything we’re posting now is highly edited.”

“What about those paparazzi photos of you and Katsuki at that art museum?”

“They were perfectly tame.”

“The video of you and Katsuki skating at a public rink?”

“Phichit was in that video, too.”

“The candlelit table at the restaurant?”

“Oh. Those. They—they didn’t  _ really _ catch us…”

“Just the faces of two idiots in love. And you’re both idiots. How long have we been working on protecting your image, Vitya? Now more than  _ ever _ it’s essential to pass as straight if you want to keep skating for Russia.”

“About that…”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ tell me you’re retiring.”

“I think I am. At the very least, taking next season off. I’ve been talking with Yuuri about choreographing for him. He’s close to finishing his degree, so I don’t know if he’ll want to stay here in Detroit or relocate somewhere else. I suppose he’ll probably stay to keep working with Celestino as a coach. I don’t think Celestino pushes him enough, though, to be honest. His style is very different from yours, and with the junior skaters and Phichit, it seems to work well, but I think Yuuri needs someone who has a little more backbone.”

“Dear Lord, please don’t tell me you’re thinking of  _ coaching _ that boy now, too.”

Coaching Yuuri would be the best possible choice for them. They could stay together, Viktor could keep working in the sport, Yuuri could get the kind of push he needed in order to truly become a top contender and usurper of Viktor’s legacy. Coaching Yuuri would be a dream, but there was one problem. Viktor chuckled, a nervous laugh that came through his nose. “Of course not, Yakov. Don’t be silly. Can you imagine the ethical complications of that? I mean, I have _sex_ with him. I can’t be his coach and keep doing that.”

“ _Please_ tell me you aren’t in public.”

Viktor didn’t need to check again, but he looked over both of his shoulders. “Completely empty stairwell in a building at Yuuri’s school. Oh, did I tell you that he and Phichit took me to a club to see a drag show on Friday night?”

A pause, and Viktor could practically see the vein in Yakov’s forehead bulge. “You didn’t.”

“Nobody saw me, obviously, since nothing ran in the press. But Yuuri was just declared fully recovered. We had to celebrate.”

“Vitya, you are playing with your freedom in too many senses. You have ten days left in America. Show discretion in those ten days,  _ please _ . If you’re serious about retiring, we can talk about it when you get home.”

“I  _ am _ serious about retiring. I can’t keep  _ living _ like I was, Yakov. I…sometimes I wonder what’s going to happen in the future. It always seemed so clear to me before. Keep skating until I can’t, then…Yuuri is giving me another option, and I can’t keep skating like I did before. Worlds is going to be my last competition.”

“What about World Team Trophy?”

“Right. I guess I forgot about that?”

“It happens in Tokyo every year, Vitya.”

“I know, I know. In that case, World Team Trophy will be my last competition. I’ll finish the season, then move to Detroit or wherever Yuuri wants to live. I’ll choreograph for him. I can choreograph for anyone who wants it, really, so long as they come to me. I can pick up modeling contracts, or commentating contracts, once the choreographing is done. I can spend time with Makkachin. It’ll be so much better, Yakov.  _ I’ll _ be so much better. I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

Yakov sighed, and silence fell on the line for a heavy half-minute. Viktor could picture Yakov, alone at his desk, pinching his temples between a meaty thumb and forefinger. The old coach broke his silence with a rare whisper. “I was afraid for you, the day you left. I thought we’d lost you.”

Viktor swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I—Georgi talked me down. I texted him first, that I needed help. I reached out, like you asked me to. He didn’t reply right away, and I was…not well. He came to my apartment, and he helped me find a flight instead. He suggested it, that I go to Yuuri first before making any rash decisions. Of course, flying to another continent at the last minute is far from a planned action. I forgot to even tell Yuuri that I was coming, forgot to tell him I was putting my phone on airplane mode. Yuuri was also afraid. I’m sorry, to both of you.”

“You only think about yourself, sometimes, Vitya. It would break my heart if you were to hurt yourself.”

“Heart? Yakov, please, it would break your top volume record with how loud you’d be shouting at me in my grave. It would pop that vein in your forehead. That one that’s swelling up right now. You’d be so angry, you’d raise me from the dead and kill me again.”

“Where did I go wrong?”

“Don’t blame yourself; you’re not my father.”

“I should have been.”

Viktor grew quiet, and silence fell on Yakov’s side of the line. “I would have liked that,” Viktor said. “Living with you and Lilia. She wouldn’t have let me get Makkachin, I don’t think. But you would have let me anyway, and Lilia would’ve grown accustomed to having her around, so long as we kept her out of the master bedroom and the salon. We could’ve had family dinners and Sunday marathons of  _ Bednaya Katyushka _ and gone to the ballet. I’ve…thought about it a lot, if I had been your son. Yakov? Yakov, are you still there?”

“ _ Da _ , you idiot. Tell me, have you taken advantage of any psychiatry practice?”

“ _ Da _ . I’ve been meeting with a woman named Sharon and taking an antidepressant. She says it won’t be fully effective right away, but I’ve already noticed a change. Yuuri says part of that might be placebo effect _. _ Since I am taking pills, even if the medicine isn’t doing anything yet, my mind is already thinking that I should be getting better.”

“I’m proud of you, Vitya. I hope to see you break your personal best in Tokyo.”

“I’m planning on it,” Viktor said, soft smile on his lips. “No one can stop me now.”

Viktor tried to be quiet as he slipped back into the GSA’s meeting room. Whatever they’d been talking about, things were winding down. He slipped into the seat he’d vacated next to Yuuri and pulled Yuuri’s hand into his. Yuuri squeezed back and dropped both of their hands onto Viktor’s thigh.

Yuuri leaned toward Viktor’s ear. “Everything okay?” he whispered.

“ _ Da _ ,” Viktor whispered back. He felt the pressure of Yuuri’s hand on his leg increase just enough to be comforting, not enough to be arousing.  For a moment, Viktor felt his elation in that press of palm to thigh. It radiated from that epicenter, rocked his core with peace and love. He steadied himself to that motion, took a deep breath and knocked the side of his head into Yuuri’s. It was easier and more comfortable than trying to rest his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.

He listened through the rest of the meeting, another ten minutes with his neck craned to keep his head in contact with Yuuri. Before long, the people around him were standing and shuffling, saying goodbyes and making plans for later that night. He sat up, rolled his neck a little bit to shake the stiffness from it.

“So, who was on the phone?” Yuuri asked. He stood and stretched, offered Viktor a hand.

Viktor took Yuuri’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. “Yakov. Reminding me to not be so public, even though I’m in America. Yuuri, I wanted to talk to you about…well, after the season.”

Viktor could see Yuuri’s body hitch with fear, but it was quickly released. “What about after the season?”

“I was thinking, since Worlds is in Tokyo and then WTT is in Tokyo, and Tokyo is in Japan…would you…I know you haven’t been back to Hasetsu in a long time, and I was wondering if you’d like to go? There’s enough time to spend a couple of days there, right after Worlds, if we stay in Tokyo the whole time through the end of WTT so that we can keep up with practice. Would you—I know I’m basically inviting myself to your home, but… _ umph _ , hey!”

Yuuri’s arms, tossed up and around his neck, Yuuri’s body, colliding with his, Yuuri’s lips crushing into his cheek. “I would love to show you Hasetsu.”

Viktor returned the hug as tightly as he could, as if this one embrace alone could cement him in his current reality. “I can’t wait to see it,” he said. “And meet your family.”

“Oh shit, I should ask if they’re going to be busy. I don’t want to burden them if the inn is going to be packed.” Yuuri broke away from Viktor and pulled his phone from his pocket, sent a text message to one of his family members. Probably his sister, if Viktor had to guess. He knew Yuuri loved his family and friends in Japan, but he only ever seemed to keep up with his sister on a regular basis. All of the family news was filtered through her, and stories of his life in Detroit would be filtered back to Hasetsu the same.

They left the room together and stopped at the nearest men’s room in the building. Viktor leaned against the wall by the door and waited for Yuuri outside, pulled out his phone.

 

_ To Mila: _

_ Let’s work on that triple axel a little after I get back _

 

He sent the message and was still looking at his phone when he noticed in his peripherals that he was being approached. With an inward sigh, he brightened into his media grin and looked up. The grin fell off, and Viktor couldn’t stop a hostile glare from overtaking his features. Though they’d been in the same room three times now, they had never spoken and had never been introduced.  _ Lacrosse manchild _ was walking toward him.

“Hey,” Pres said, held out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve actually met before. I’m Preston.”

Viktor kept his hands on his phone. “I’m Yuuri’s boyfriend,” he said.

The lacrosse player withdrew his hand. “I know,” he said. “It’s kind of crazy. I mean, I know what you were to him, so…anyway…just wanted to introduce myself.”

“I love Yuuri very dearly,” Viktor said.

“Okay?”

“I trust him with my problems. You know, it takes a certain fortitude of character for a man to be willing to put up with me. I can be cold and distant, or I can be clingy and overbearing. I don’t have a healthy gauge of how to interact with people. And that’s not even considering my contractual and legal obligations, which I’ve definitely been ignoring for the past few weeks.”

“I don’t see where this is going.”

“As much as I trust Yuuri, Yuuri trusts me. At least, I hope he does. He tells me secrets he thought he’d never share with anyone. Including his history with you.”

“Woah, what we had was super casual, it’s not like we were in love or anything. We hooked up, yeah. Yuuri’s a great lay, which you probably already know. Don’t get all jealous on me, man. He’s all yours now. I just wanted to be nice to you.”

“Jealous? Oh, no, I am not jealous at all. I’d rather say hate. I hate you for the way you treated him.”

Pres took a step back, put his hands in his pockets. “Well, fuck you, too, bro. Nice talking with you. God, what? You wanna punch me or something?”

Viktor scoffed and rolled his eyes, stared at his phone. “Have you ever even  _ been _ punched before?”

“I play lacrosse,” Pres said, defensive. Lacrosse could be a violent sport if taken too seriously, but on-field blows would never compare. Viktor knew. He knew the blossoming bruises from falls on the ice as well as from the beatings of an abusive mother. He knew the sting that came with the latter, the pain that didn’t heal no matter how much mentholated ointment was rubbed into the skin. Pres was naïve to experiencing true pain.

“So, your answer is no. I would much rather see you in jail, because Yuuri…he didn’t hook up with you at all, did he? You engineered it so the pretty boy who wouldn’t fuck you sober would be trapped with you when he was too drunk to know what was going on, and then you took advantage of that. You found a system that worked, and you pulled the same scheme over and over again until you had Yuuri believing that he was worthless. I was recently punched in the face, you know. My uncle was angry that I am gay, and he wanted me to change. I am still gay, and being punched did nothing to change that. Do I think you deserve to burn in the deepest level of hell for the way you abused Yuuri? Yes. Do I think punching you will change the fact that you’re a rapist and you know it? No.”

“You’re so fucking off-base right now.”

“Am I, though?”

“Yeah, you are. I never did anything with Yuuri that he didn’t fucking  _ beg _ for, and yeah, we had a falling out, but I was trying to apologize to him before you fucked up everything between us. Did you fucking tell him to treat me like shit to get even or something? Are you fucking psychotic or something?”

“I would rather not be having this conversation, because I come from a history of domestic violence, and I have very low tolerance for abuse apology.”

“You’re fucking insane.”

“Oh, you look like you want to punch me, now. Go ahead. I’ve been hit before and I’ll be hit again; I’m not afraid of your retaliation. Just know that if you do, I am not afraid of pressing charges. I have the best legal team in Russia; they’ve kept me alive and out of trouble for years, and they won a major civil suit for me while I was half a globe away from court. Please, punch me if you want to. I would  _ love _ to see you in jail.”

“Fuck you.”

Viktor chanced a look at Pres. The lacrosse player was red to his ears, nostrils flared, pupils dilated slightly. He looked like a bull about to charge but for a thin line of rationale holding him back. One more prod, and he’d either attack or turn tail. Viktor cleared his throat. “Go away now, please.”

Pres flipped him off and slunk away, disappearing around a corner just before Yuuri opened the bathroom door. “Thank god,” Yuuri said. “I thought I would be trapped in that bathroom forever.”

“You heard that conversation?”

“It doesn’t take that long to pee, you know. I heard most of it.” Yuuri pushed Viktor away from the wall and stood behind him. With quick, firm presses, he began massaging the tension out of Viktor’s shoulders.

“Do you really want to do this in the hall outside of a public bathroom?”

“Do you have a better location in mind?”

“Hmm…how about at home? You can really focus on the muscles, work out any kinks…”

“Improve the blood flow?”

“Something like that? If you’d want.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri spun him around, then stood on his tiptoes to kiss Viktor’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You just had a confrontation with my shitty ex that didn’t end in bloodshed when I know you must fantasize about murdering him, don’t deny it.”

Viktor sighed. “Only once or twice, I’ve wanted to. He’s a hypocrite and a liar, on top of being a predator.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and tugged on Viktor’s arm. They began walking back down the hall toward the front of the building. “You’re a hypocrite sometimes, too, you know. Not the worst thing a person can be.”

“Everyone’s a hypocrite, yes. That inflated, arrogant lacrosse idiot is also a predator.”

“I…it could’ve just been me. Like, something about me that made him…he did say that I begged for it. Maybe…”

“Do you remember ever  _ begging _ for anything from him?”

“Just for him to leave me alone.”

“And there’s your answer.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. I…let’s just go home and take a nap. Can we do that?”

“I’d love to.”

Viktor’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

_ From Mila: _

_ I don’t know if I’ll have time now, with Worlds being so close _

_ Maybe after the season ends? _

_ I’d love to have it for next season! _

 

Viktor’s chest tightened, and he locked his phone, unsure how to respond. “Yuu-tan,” he said, “After…after WTT, I don’t know what I should do.”

Again, Viktor noticed his lover’s body freeze for a moment in fear. Something about the end of the season was causing Yuuri anxiety; Viktor didn’t know what it was, but he hoped that Yuuri would either work it out on his own soon or confide in him. Viktor couldn’t do much to help, but he wanted to at least have the chance to try. Yuuri relaxed again quickly. “I think you should only do what you want to do. If you could do anything at all, what would it be?”

“I’m not sure,” Viktor said. “If I could have the whole world…I just want to be with you.”

“ _ Sō ka _ . I…I want that, too. Do you want anything else?” With their arms linked, they exited the building and began walking in the direction of Yuuri’s apartment.

“I want…”  _ I want Yuuri _ , Viktor thought again, but he knew that it wouldn’t be helpful to let this talk be clouded by lust. “I want to see you win the GPF.”

“Do you really think I can? I mean, the best I’ve ever done is silver at 4CC.”

“Not if you keep working with Celestino as your only coach. He’s a wonderful man, and he cares about you like a family member, but I don’t think he’s been pushing you to your full potential. If you want to win, and I think you do, you’ll need someone who demands it out of you. Celestino is a good coach, one of the best, but I don’t think he’s the best fit for  _ you _ .”

Yuuri stayed quiet for a few moments. In the early spring air, the silence was filled by birdsong and the crunch of melting ice under their feet. “So, you think that, too. I’ve been feeling so guilty thinking that I might need a change. Celestino-sensei has done so much for me. He’s taken me to the hospital, he’s helped me manage my meds and my anxiety. He introduced me to Phichit and asked me to help take care of him when Phi was still such a young kid. I don’t know who would coach me, though, if not Celestino. I don’t know where I’d even begin to look for a new coach. I don’t know where I’d  _ live _ , if not here in Detroit.”

“Well, what do  _ you _ want, Yuuri?”

“Hmm. What I  _ want _ is probably a bad idea, so I don’t think it’s even worth mentioning.”

“No fair,” Viktor whined, lower lip jutting in a practiced pout. “I told you what I want.”

“Well…don’t laugh at me, because this is kind of probably really stupid, so just know that it’s—”

“Stalling,” Viktor said. Yuuri rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. “What’s that?”

Yuuri glared at him for a moment before he said, “If I could, I’d like to train in Hasetsu for a year before maybe retiring and going on to grad school, especially if I don’t do well next season, and…I don’t want you to leave, so…I’d want you there, too? But I don’t know anyone who’d be willing to work with me long distance for an entire year, and I couldn’t ask anyone to come coach me in Hasetsu, because that just wouldn’t be fair. So, I mean…unless  _ you  _ wanted to coach me, but that would be ridiculous.”

“Terrible ethics violation, or I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know, right? Ridic—wait, what?  _ Ethics  _ violation?  _ That’s _ your objection?”

Viktor leaned to whisper into Yuuri’s ear, his warm breath creating a puff of condensation in the air. “Wouldn’t it be wrong for a coach to be fucking his student?”

Yuuri turned to whisper back, and Viktor felt himself shiver when the breath reached his ear. “What if the student was fucking the coach?”

“Do you prefer topping, Yuuri?”

“I prefer having this conversation naked in bed and not on the sidewalk, but also no. I think…either way works for me, so long as it’s with you.”

“I would be a terrible coach,” Viktor said as he created space between their faces. He couldn’t keep going in the conversation without kissing Yuuri, and Yakov’s phone call was still weighing on the back of his mind. “I’m impulsive, thoughtless sometimes, forgetful. You’d be taking a huge risk if I were your coach.”

“But you’d teach me all your jumps, wouldn’t you?” Yuuri asked.

“If you asked me to. Why? Wanna nail a quad flip?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. I’d love to land a quad flip. I can still barely land the fucking quad sow, though, so it’s probably a pipe dream.”

“A what?”

“Like, a thing that would only happen in an alternate reality.”

“Oh. But I think you can do it in this reality.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You’d figure it out, if I were your coach.”

“ _ If _ you were my coach, but you’re not my coach.”

“No, but I could be if you wanted me to be. I’d be anything you want me to be.”

“I just want you to be you,” Yuuri said. Viktor stopped walking, and Yuuri jerked back when their arms collided. “Vitya?”

Viktor shook himself and started walking again, falling back into pace with Yuuri. “No one’s ever wanted me to be myself before, you know. You, Katsuki Yuuri, are the only one. I hope you’re prepared to help me figure out who that is, this  _ myself _ person.”

“You’re on,” Yuuri said. They turned the corner which signaled exactly one mile left until they reached the apartment “First we should find out if Viktor Nikiforov likes video games. Race you back home?”

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some recent news updates on LGBT human rights violations in the former USSR:
> 
> http://www.newnownext.com/zelimkhan-bakaev-chechnya-murdered-gay-purge/10/2017/
> 
> http://www.newnownext.com/russia-propaganda-law-harsher-interior-ministry/10/2017/
> 
> http://www.newnownext.com/kyrgyzstan-gay-club-closes/10/2017/
> 
> http://www.newnownext.com/authorities-in-tajikistan-begin-registry-of-proven-homosexuals/10/2017/
> 
> http://www.newnownext.com/azerbaijan-gay-arrests/09/2017/
> 
>  
> 
> I promise not to murder Viktor in a gay pogrom, though I don't promise to not have that be a fear of his.


	27. Chapter 27

**March 3, 2016, Mid-Morning – Detroit, United States**

“Oh, please? Come on, Yuuri, please?” Viktor latched his hands around Yuuri’s forearm and shook it.

Yuuri brushed at Viktor’s hands until he let go, then opened their locker and handed Viktor his skates. “You are not throwing me, Vitya.”

“But you’re tiny; you could probably land a thrown jump.” Viktor moved to sit on the bench, did one last set of stretches on his feet.

Yuuri plopped onto the bench next to him, his own boots in hand. “ _ Phichit _ is tiny. If you want to experiment with similar pairs, throw Phichit.”

“But I don’t  _ want _ to throw Phichit.” They both laced up, then stood.

Yuuri poked Viktor in the center of his chest. “I thought you said that thrown jumps scare you.”

“They always leave me on the edge of my seat. Every single one. They’re terrifying. Greatest fear.”

“You are  _ not  _ throwing me, Vitya.”

“What about lifts? I bet we could do some complicated poses. Come on, Yuuri, please? It’ll be fun!”

“Ciao-ciao, gentlemen!” Celestino called out as he walked into the locker room. “So, I hope you’re not too eager to get on the ice, because the Zamboni just broke down while it was resurfacing.”

“Are you serious?” Yuuri said. “That’s the second time this season. They said it would be good for another five years.”

“What happened?” Viktor asked.

Celestino sighed and said, “It’s the motor. We wanted to get it replaced, or get a new machine entirely, when it broke down in August, but the company said that they could repair it. There are people on the way now, but ice is closed here for the rest of the day. The public rink will let us come practice, but we’d have to share ice time with a kid’s hockey league. I’m fine with switching today to entirely off-ice training, though. The kids are little, under nine.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t want to chop a kid’s head off if I flub a jump,” Yuuri said. He sat back down and began undoing the laces he’d just tied.

Viktor joined him on the bench. “I was so close to convincing you to let me throw you, too.”

“No throws,” Celestino said. “You can throw whoever you want in St. Petersburg, but not here. Yuuri stays on the ground unless he’s jumping.”

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri said. “No throws. Absolutely none.”

“After the season ends, then,” Viktor said. “I’m going to convince you, Yuuri. We’ll revolutionize the sport.”

“No one is letting us skate similar pairs, Vitya. Besides, aren’t you retiring?”

“Oh, is that what you’ve decided?” Celestino asked.

“Yes,” Viktor said. “I’ll probably just say I’m taking next season off, but I’m done.”

“If that’s how you feel, then it’s the right decision. You know, if you’re looking for a job, we could always use another assistant coach here.”

“Thank you,” Viktor said. “I think…choreography. I know I want to do choreography. I’m not sure I’d make a good coach.”

“The juniors all love you,” Yuuri said. He nudged Viktor’s shoulder with his elbow. “I’m sure you’d be great at it, if you tried.”

“Well, the offer stands. Detroit Skate Club would love to have you here full-time.”

“I’ll think about it,” Viktor nodded. He repeated, voice quieter, “I will think about it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 4, 2016, Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

Viktor took a drink from his water bottle and leaned against the boards. He was watching Celestino’s junior skaters perform a series of twizzles with an eye toward increasing their speed and level. Of the five young teens on the ice, only the fifteen-year-old girl skating in ladies’ singles was already internationally competitive. Celestino hoped to get the young pairs team, aged thirteen and fourteen, to the international level next season. The others, two thirteen-year-old boys skating singles, would be ready for international competition the season after that. Viktor watched them, calculating their movements on the ice. The girl would make top ten at Junior Worlds, top five the next year before moving up to seniors. She’d plateau at eighteen or nineteen, but would hold two National-level medals, perhaps one of them gold. If she found a partner and switched to ice dance, she’d have more longevity in the sport. Anyone who switched to ice dance would have more longevity in the sport.

One of the boys stumbled and groaned. “This is ridiculous,” he said, scuffing flakes of ice with his toe pick. “Twizzles are for girls and ice dance. They’re stupid for guys, and we don’t need them to win.”

“Oh?” Viktor said. “Why do you think that?”

“They don’t get you a lot of points,” the boy said. “Why would you waste your time doing things that don’t get you points when you could be doing things that do?”

Viktor sighed, dropped his water bottle behind the boards. “Figure skating isn’t about points,” he said. “It’s about the artistry, telling a story with your body. You could load up a program with difficult jumps and get a high technical score, but if your program components aren’t sharp enough and clean enough to convey emotion, then you’re going to suffer in your PCS. You need both to be flawless in order to win. The twizzle,” and Viktor twizzled his way across the ice toward the junior, “may not be worth many technical points in men’s singles, but you’ll need it to build beautiful and convincing step sequences. Trust me on this. You could land all of your jumps in a program, but if you mess up your choreography because you think twizzles are stupid, you won’t win. Don’t you want to win?”

The boy grumbled to himself, but didn’t complain again. He did a quick loop around the ice before trying again, succeeded in three rotations before switching entry and completing one and a half more. He stopped.

Viktor nodded. “Do it again, faster. Everyone, now.” He moved back to the edge of the ice and continued to observe. The first day he’d been there, the junior skaters had been shocked and excited, and when he’d begun helping out with their practices, the kids had been thrilled. Viktor was brutal at times, though, and it didn’t take long for the idolization to wear off. Younger skaters, he often found, were easier to talk to and work with than his peers or skaters closer to Phichit’s age. His competitors usually fell into two categories: the bitter and envious, or the idolizers. If he’d met Yuuri under different circumstances, he might have written him off as another competitor-fan, and even now, Yuuri didn’t play coy about how big of a fan he was. But for all of his hero-worship, Yuuri had never once treated Viktor like he deserved anything for his fame or success. Even before they’d met on that hotel roof, Yuuri had walked away from a photo op without being outright dismissive and rude.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ At border now; be home soon _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ How’d it go? _

 

He checked the time before locking the screen. “Okay, it looks like it’s almost time. Does anyone have anything specific they’d like to work on? If not, we can break a few minutes early.” The young teens all shot each other hesitant glances that Viktor could easily read as  _ don’t you dare _ , and he grinned. The little Yuri was always trying to get out of practice with the other juniors at Yakov’s rink, and before Yakov had finally caved and let him begin practicing with the seniors, Viktor had seen Yuri give the kids his age that same look every time Viktor ran their practice for Yakov. None of Celestino’s kids said anything. “Good,” Viktor said. “Everyone off the ice, then.”

His phone buzzed again while he was clicking his guards over his blades. He stood near the juniors, who were all unlacing their boots or stretching out their sore leg muscles, while he read the texts and replied.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ We talked about what I’d do if we move to Hasetsu _

_ With therapy and shit _

_ Probs that place in Fukuoka, but I don’t know if that would be weird _

_ Since I donate money to them secretly _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ You don’t have to make a decision yet, you know. _

_ You have plenty of time _

 

“Hey, Viktor,” the fifteen-year-old girl called his name. “Why did you start skating?”

“Hm? Why? I don’t remember if there was a reason the first time I ever skated, other than having fun.”

“But, why did you keep up with it?”

Viktor locked his phone and pushed it into his pocket. “It was good for me. My parents liked that it kept me out of the house when I was young, and I was talented.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay. I…guess that makes sense.”

Viktor took a deep breath and threw on a media smile; he didn’t like where this was going. “Are you disappointed?”

The girl looked at the other junior skaters before letting her eyes rest on the floor. “I just thought you’d say that you loved it so much you couldn’t stop, or that you needed it to breathe, or that you felt like the ice called to you, like it was some kind of fairy tale or something. I don’t know, something like a real answer. You didn’t even say that you  _ like _ skating, and I mean, I know you must like it, but I’m confused by that.”

Viktor’s phone buzzed again, and he prayed that Yuuri had made it through the border quickly and was outside the rink. Just the day before, he’d been talking with Sharon about whether or not he liked skating, and he didn’t think these teenagers needed a recap of his therapy session. He was afraid, however, that he no longer held the personality poise to keep the truth buried. “One moment,” he said as he unlocked his phone.

 

_ From Little Yurio (never show contact info): _

_ Oi, are you going to watch my competition from the plane or something? _

_ Moron _

_ Yakov says you’re flying on the 12 _ _ th _

_ My sp is on the 12 _ _ th _ _ and you’re not going to watch it _

_ Jerk _

_ I’m going to win, whether or not you watch it. _

 

His media smile melted into a soft grin. Yuri missed him; Viktor knew that Yuri missed him, but they hadn’t spoken much since Viktor had left. Viktor felt warm and sad receiving Yuri’s messages, and he realized that he missed his fiery tiger too.

 

_ To Little Yurio (never show contact info): _

_ I will stream it from the plane with their expensive in-flight wifi! _

_ I wouldn’t miss it, Yura :) _

 

Softened by the interaction with Yuri, he turned that gentle smile on Yuuri’s junior rinkmate. He could swallow down his discomfort and churn out some advice, couldn’t he? He’d been doing that for years with Yakov’s juniors, and these kids were no different. “I do love figure skating,” Viktor said. “Don’t doubt that. Just loving it, though, isn’t enough to succeed at the international level. You have to love it enough, be good enough  _ and _ be desperate enough to win. You have to put your entire life on the line to get on that podium, and do it over and over again until people never forget your name.”  _ There _ , he thought. Good soundbyte. Good advice. Vague enough to be inspirational.

“But you’re rich,” the girl from the pairs team said. “It’s not like you ever put your life on the line to skate.”

“He’s being metaphorical, idiot,” one of the boys said.

“Shut up,” she snapped back. “Skating is expensive, but  _ you _ wouldn’t know that because  _ you’re _ rich, too. Not everyone is rich, you know. Some people aren’t, and that makes skating a lot more difficult, and going to a big international competition costs a lot of money. You just can’t  _ do _ that if you’re not rich.”

The pairs team would be brilliant in international competition, but if this girl was so defensive about money, they might not make it that far. “You’re not wrong,” he said, throat constricting around his words and making his accent more pronounced, “skating costs money. If that financial cost is what it means to you to put your life on the line, then that’s where you get your drive to skate. I remember not having enough money when I was younger, and it was a huge motivator to win, and to win consistently.” He did remember, sharply, the day he left home, his father saying that he wouldn’t support him financially if he chose to live in the dorms. His father had come by the rink once and only once, in order to sign off on Viktor’s new dorm room. Viktor often thought of that signature as the only good thing his father had ever done for him.

The boy who’d struggled with the twizzles scoffed. “News said you inherited 35 million bucks.”

Later, Viktor knew he would appreciate the smart-aleck attitude of these teenagers, but right now, his ears were ringing, echoing the invisible sound of a gunshot. He looked around his shoulder. “Blood money from a monster,” he said to himself in Russian. He rubbed his ears.

He’d thought he’d said it in Russian, at least, but the kids were all staring at him as if they’d understood. He faltered his face into a plastic smile. “Not everyone’s life is lived along the same line,” he said. “Find what drives you, whether it is money or fame or freedom, and sacrifice yourself on that altar until you’ve been reborn. The strong artists are the ones who can be reborn as many times as necessary to achieve their goals. That’s what Madame Baranovskaya would say.”

He walked away from the young skaters, disappearing into the men’s locker room. He sat on a bench near Yuuri’s locker and untied the laces on his boots. Carefully, methodically, he massaged his feet before slipping them back into sneakers. He locked his skates into Yuuri’s locker, then pulled out his phone.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Should I give the money to skaters? _

_ Like a scholarship fund? _

_ Or should I give it to gay rights in Russia like I said? _

_ Or something else? _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I think both of those are good ideas _

_ It’s a lot of money; you can do more than one thing with it. _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ The junior kids asked me why I started skating _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ What did you tell them? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Well, I didn’t tell them it was to get away from abusive parents _

_ I said some standard things, that aren’t untrue _

_ They kept acting like they didn’t believe me _

_ And it upset me. _

_ I…might not be okay… _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ You want to talk about it? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ It’s getting harder not to. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I’m here for you and I love you _

_ You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to _

_ I’m here for you either way _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I feel like I should be dead sometimes _

_ Like it’s an accident I’m still alive _

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ But you survived. _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I survived… _

_ What if…what if I gave some of that money to kids like me? _

_ Whose parents hurt them _

_ I think it’s not uncommon in Russia _

_ Maybe not as far as my mother went _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ I think that’s a beautiful idea. _

_ Let’s research it more tonight, okay? _

_ Hey…you are wonderful, you know? _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ I love you _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, so my sister sent me a copy of _How to Talk to Your Cat About Gun Safety_ as a get-well-soon gift. I have the best sisters, y'all.
> 
> Also, I love my queer theory course. I could spend all day every day reading these books. Today was _In A Queer Time and Place_ by Judith/Jack Halberstam. Check it out!
> 
> Also, anyone else reading _Turtles All the Way Down_? I have no time, so I am taking it in small doses, but so far it is some of the most beautiful (painfully accurate) writing about mental illness I've ever read. I'm not far in, but I already recommend.


	28. Chapter 28

**March 7, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov –** [ **Oh Father (Sia Version)** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJWFD_kgM4Q) }

{icon image: Viktor on the ice alone at Detroit Skate Club, wearing all black workout clothes}

 

101,789 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published March 5, 2016

 

Video description: Did you know that there are nonprofit organizations in America that work against child abuse? If you know of any in Russia, please leave a comment with a link to their web page or tweet it at me @v-nikiforov.

This video is dedicated to all of the children of abuse, and in memory of those who have lost their lives to domestic violence. They can’t hurt us now. – Viktor

 

2,538 Comments

Add a public comment

 

**Who’s that wearing those silly shoes** 2 days ago Madonna does it better.

View all 104 replies

**Honey and Spice** 2 days ago Who’s that wearing those silly shoes Everyone always rags on this version of this song, and I feel bad for Madonna, who wrote the original based on real experiences and everything, but I can’t stand the original “Oh, Father” at all. It’s not a good song. Sia’s version is better. It just is.

**hnnngh neko neko** 19 hours ago Honey and Spice How dare you disrespect Madonna like that??? Madonna is a genius and a queen, and every single one of her songs is perfect as-is. I don’t hate this Sia cover, but it’s so thoroughly lacking in emotion compared to the original. I honestly have no idea why Viktor would’ve picked Sia over Madonna, and it’s a damn miracle that he still manages to invoke the emotions present in Madonna’s song but lacking in Sia’s.

 

**Viktuuri Fan Calvin G.** 2 days ago Viktor, oh my lord, you poor child. I just now put it all together, and I can’t believe it. What happened? Do I even want to know? I just want to give him a big hug and tell him it’s all okay now.

View all 400 replies

**Drunk in Love** 12 hours ago Viktuuri Fan Calvin G. I want to know what happened to Viktor, because I am a terrible person and I slow down on the highway to see traffic accidents. Between the “Family Portrait” skate, the news about that shit lawsuit by his relatives, and this, it is pretty clear that Viktor was abused as a kid (and even as an adult with that black eye last month). No wonder he has problems with depression now. Would love to see an interview where he talks about it in depth. Again, I am a terrible person.

**Siaaaaaaaa’s wig** 4 hours ago Viktuuri Fan Calvin G. omg same with the big hug!! I have that response any time I find out someone’s been hurt, even if I don’t know them. I hope that Yuuri-kun is giving him all the hugs, don’t you???

 

**Nadya T is my Queen** 1 day ago There is a group in Moscow called “Right of the Child” that works for kids of abuse and does advocacy type stuff. As with all things in Russia, there are federal laws that guarantee the protection and welfare of children, but there is no implementation of said laws. Money gets cut and diverted from child services, leaving each new generation of Russian children suffering. Kids get carted off to orphanages and forgotten about, foster care barely exists. Russia is a horrible hub for human trafficking of minors into sex slavery. I am not surprised that Viktor would have been a victim of abuse. Especially in a family with that kind of money, it is all too easy for Russian officials to turn a blind eye.

View all 287 replies

**Call me a libtard, I don’t care** 17 hours ago Nadya T is my Queen it’s so frustrating that the Russian government sounds like they’re even more inept at protecting kids than the United States, and our police force and legal system are clearly twisted with the way that black men and boys are routinely targeted and killed. You’d think that everyone would all be able to come together over how important it is to protect children, especially the pro-lifers who spend so much time and money talking shit, but no. Those same people are the ones who always want cut the funding to child services and child welfare.

**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 5 minutes ago Nadya T is my Queen Thank you for this organization’s name. We are going to look into it together. I’m also a fan of Pussy Riot, by the way ;) – Yuuri

**Alice Sansa** 1 hour ago I would really like to see Viktor do an interview about his life that doesn’t start with his first JGPF and focus entirely on skating. Like, please pretty please. I think it would be very important.

View 1 reply

**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 2 minutes ago Alice Sansa he says he’ll think about it – Yuuri

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He turned his focus to Viktor, who was sitting across from him in the booth. The booth was secluded, walled in on three sides with the open edge facing the kitchen in the far back corner of the restaurant. “Would you really do an interview about it?” he asked. He was glad that he’d called ahead and asked about privacy, because in this atmosphere with only their server to occasionally see them, the growing pressure to be discreet dissipated. With this level of privacy, they could enjoy a meal together and have a conversation without having to share space with Phichit or hide in Yuuri’s bedroom. They wouldn’t be found by paparazzi here, and they could enjoy one normal date. Viktor was staring at his menu, but his eyes had grown distant. Yuuri reached across the table and covered Viktor’s hand with his own. “I know you don’t even like talking much about it with me, so don’t feel any pressure to give that over to the media, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said.

“Don’t be.”

“I don’t want to keep things from you,” he said. “I want to be able to talk about it more, but it’s also so dark. I’ve been floating in it my whole life, but I’m just afraid that it’d drown you if I tried to pull you in.”

“So maybe I stay in the boat and just toss you a life ring, then when you’re close enough, I pull you out.”

“I don’t think you can, Yuu-tan. I don’t think anyone can. And I—I already feel like I put too much on you. I worry that it’ll cause you problems, too.”

Yuuri wrapped his hand around Viktor’s, then interlaced their fingers over the table. Viktor thought he put too much on Yuuri? Viktor was scared of being a problem for Yuuri? “I feel the same way about my problems, too,” Yuuri said. “I, um…I’ve actually been kind of anxious about…well, it’s not really important, I guess. I already know that it’s just my anxiety.”

“Will you tell me?”

Yuuri took a deep breath, held it and released it. “My mind keeps telling me that you’re going to go back to Russia and decide that you never want to see me again,” he said. “Which is stupid, and I know it’s stupid, but then I keep thinking up these ridiculous schemes to convince you to stay with me, like I have to earn your time. Which I think is why I thought about what if you would coach me and we could live in Hasetsu, but that’s a stupid idea for so many reasons, and then I feel stupid, and that makes me insecure because you’re so intelligent, and then I go right back to trying to figure out ways to keep you interested in me, because I know I’m not really all that—”

“You think that  _ I’m _ intelligent but that  _ you’re _ stupid?”

“Well, my anxiety does.”

“But you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I’m good with money, but it’s not like I even have a degree. You’re so much smarter than I am. Wow. That is a horrible lie your anxiety is telling you.”

“If I were so smart, I would’ve graduated on time last spring.”

“You took a semester off so you could focus on your training and competitions two years ago, and you’re just writing your thesis now. You’re doing amazing work. There’s no way I’d ever be able to attend university and compete at the same time. I’d never be able to remember anything, and I’d fail all the classes and drop off the podium for good. You’re amazing.”

Yuuri blushed and looked down at his menu. “How upset do you think Celestino will be if I go off diet and order the carbonara?”

“If I were your coach, I’d never let you cheat your diet.”

“Well, that’s not fair. What’s the point of dating your coach if you can’t take advantage of the boyfriend part?”

“Nope, not in the diet. I would literally sit there eating your favorite foods in front of you while you suffered with half a chicken breast and three bites of broccoli. But there could be…other advantages I’m sure you’ll work out…”

“Oh, will I?” he locked his ankle with Viktor’s.

“If you want me as a coach, then yes, you will.”

Yuuri sighed. Viktor was taking this too seriously, this idea from his anxiety-fueled mind. Spending the next year living in Hasetsu with his family and with Viktor was a dream, something he could imagine and fantasize about. It was something he  _ had _ fantasized about, even before he met Viktor. “Like I said, it’s a stupid idea.”

“I don’t see why,” Viktor said. “It sounds 99 percent perfect. That one percent is just the ethical question of it, but if we were dating before we started working together, that’s okay, right? I don’t know. I think that some people coach their spouses in other sports.”

A waiter appeared at their open wall and stifled a squeal. “Oh. My. Goodness,” he whispered. “I was told we had discreet patrons, but this just made my life. Wow. I am a huge fan of you boys.”

Viktor sat up quickly, letting go of Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri shrank his arm back to his side and moved his feet under the edge of his seat. Viktor recovered first and smiled up at the waiter.

“Oh, honey, sorry, you don’t need to pretend,” the waiter said. He pulled out a notepad. “I am a huge Viktuuri shipper. What can I get for you tonight?”

Yuuri was vaguely aware of Viktor placing his order. He hadn’t decided what he wanted, but the time left to him was shrinking. He scanned the menu again, mind half processing the words and half obsessing over the loss of Viktor’s touch.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Um. Sorry. I…um…I…”

“Need a little more time?” the waiter asked.

“Vitya?” Yuuri looked at Viktor.

Viktor’s eyes were wide, a sad concern swimming in them. “You said earlier about the carbonara.”

“Oh, right, yeah, that works. Sorry.” He dropped his eyes back to the table.  _ Can’t even order at a restaurant, no good no good no good _ . Viktor had to be embarrassed to be there with him; he didn’t even want to hold Yuuri’s hand. 

“Did you get a chance to take a look at our wine list? We have some nice whites that will pair well with that.”

“No, thank you,” Yuuri said, still looking at the table. “Can’t have alcohol, sorry. Just water, please.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. And don’t you boys worry, I will not tell a soul.”

The waiter disappeared to place their order, but Yuuri couldn’t relax. A fan. The only thing worse than being spotted by paparazzi was being spotted by a fan. He shouldn’t have brought Viktor here, shouldn’t have risked it. He couldn’t control for fans. Viktor must be so angry with him, messing up another date. He felt Viktor’s fingers stroke along his cheek. “Yuuri, I’m sorry,” Viktor said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s not your fault, Vitya.”

“It is, though. You worked so hard to find a place where we had guaranteed privacy, and as soon as the waiter recognized us, I acted like…like…like I was guilty of something, like I was…like I was  _ ashamed _ of being here with you, and I’m  _ not _ . I love you so much. I wish I could show it better instead of acting the way I do.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay. I understand why, so it’s okay.”

“It’s  _ not _ okay. It’s not okay, and I want to do better. I’m only going to be in Russia for two weeks. Less than two weeks, really. I’m going to train with Yakov and pack my apartment and transfer my money overseas, and I’m not going back there. I don’t know where I’ll be, but it’ll be where you are. I want to be public, completely public, about us. I want to tackle you on the ice in a kiss and do ice dance exhibitions and wild, romantic gestures like on  _ Bednaya Katyushka _ . I want to be able to say, ‘Yes, this is my partner, Katsuki Yuuri—he’s the most beautiful man in the world’ into a bunch of cameras and microphones until the whole world knows that I am so completely in love with you. Instead, I’m here acting like we’re barely acquaintances when our waiter shows up and says he’s our fan. It’s hurting you, and it’s hurting us. Every time I do it, I think, ‘Is this it? Is this the time he finally gets fed up with my fear and leaves me for someone who will hold his hand at a restaurant?’”

“You—you think  _ I’m _ going to leave  _ you _ because of internalized homophobia?”

“Well, yes.”

“ _ Anta wa baka ka? _ ”

“Yuu—”

“I can’t say it doesn’t hurt,” Yuuri cut him off before Viktor could speak. “Because it does, sometimes. My mind goes straight to thinking that you don’t want me, that you don’t love me, that this is all some kind of enormous prank or something. That usually goes away when I focus on what’s really going on, and I can’t imagine how it feels for  _ you _ . I’ve been out for a decade, and you…Vitya, I promise you that I will never leave you because of this. I love you too much to just give up because you’re still struggling with the idea of being open about yourself. Plus, I’m just too fucking competitive. If all of Russia wants your attention, then all of Russia is going to know that I’m the one who stole you away from them. They can hate me all they want, because they’ll see. They’ll see how much happier I make you than they ever did, how much more satisfied you are with me, and they’ll  _ know _ that you’re mine. I don’t care if we never go public officially, because fuck them and their superficial claim over your life. Whenever you’re with me, you’re allowed to live how you want to live, and I’m going to be there for as long as it takes for you to get there, and then forever after that. I don’t care if it takes another ten or twenty years for you to be able to hold my hand in a restaurant. You held it on the bus, and that’s what really matters.”

Viktor leaned forward over the table. “I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Yuuri had to rise out of the seat and lean to meet him; he kissed Viktor’s forehead and brushed his fingers through his silver hair. “Are you sure?”

Viktor nodded before pressing his lips to Yuuri’s in a slow, soft kiss. He paused, bumped his forehead into Yuuri’s. “I have got to be the luckiest man in the world right now. How are you even real?”

Yuuri smiled and fell back into his seat, then reached for Viktor’s hand. “Well, I was born in Kyushu on a late November morning, the second child of the last operational onsen ryōkan in the seaside town of Hasetsu. Before I could walk, I was dropped into ballet classes with our local Benois de la Danse recipient, Okukawa Minako, a family friend who looks younger than me and is older than my mother.” He ran the top of his foot along Viktor’s lower calf. “And then, long story short, that’s how Katsuki Yuuri came to exist. I’m not sure if I’m real, either, if we’re being honest. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just a computer program, or a background character in an anime, or an NPC in someone else’s game…”

“There is no way that you’re a background character. You’re probably the star of the show.”

“That’s clearly you, Vitya.”

“It could be both of us. Imagine next season, one skater with a rocky season behind him aims for new heights. Together with the disillusioned previous world champ, they work together to create programs that neither could have conceived of without the other, then set about destroying the previous champ’s world records. Along the way, they fall in love…well, I guess we skipped ahead a bit there, but…”

“Yeah, we really did. Oh. Phichit would be upset if RPF Viktuuri didn’t cure homophobia worldwide by the end of the story. Vitya, do we cure homophobia worldwide?”

“Yes. And then we get married and live together in St. Petersburg every summer, but definitely not during the winter, because why suffer through that if you could live in southern Japan instead?”

“And we’ll have a marriage that’s recognized in Japan, and Russia, and adopt a kid or two, and then the sequel series will be set fifteen years down the road as our child becomes…well, she’d probably want to go for figure skating, wouldn’t she?”

“She should try hockey.”

“Vitya, our fictional daughter is not playing hockey.”

“Why not? It would be surprising.”

“If you really want surprising, she can be a rally car driver. First Japanese woman to win the Dakar Rally. She cures sexism worldwide. That’s the sequel.”

“Oh, that would certainly be a surprise. I would want her to wear a very thick crash suit, but I also wouldn’t want her to get overheated in the desert. Yuu-tan, our poor fictional baby is in danger of heat stroke in Senegal and we’re just commentating from the sidelines for the sports network back home. We’re terrible parents.”

“You want to be a parent someday?”

“I think so,” Viktor said. “I never thought I did, because, well…you know…but now…yes, I would like to have kids. I’d be afraid of turning into a parent like my own, though. I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt my own child.”

“You won’t be like them.”

“We don’t know that.”

“I do. I know you. You are the opposite of your parents.”

“I can be rather petty, though.”

“Which is why you’re going to donate that money that your abusive father left you in his will toward an organization that works to protect children from their abusive families. That’s the best kind of revenge, you know. Oh, there was an organization named in the comments; I saw it pop up a few times. Want to look it up when we go home?”

The waiter appeared at the table and set plates of food in front of them, and it was only at that moment that they both noticed the glasses of water that had been sitting on the table long enough to pool beads of condensation on their coasters.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said to the waiter. “When did you bring the water?”

“Somewhere between ‘internalized homophobia’ and ‘not my business.’ Don’t you kids worry; my husband and I had a phase just like this. We got through it. Been married five years. And yes, I would trade my entire Southern Baptist family for him again in a heartbeat. Alright, enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else.”

They thanked him, smiled at each other with their fingers interlaced. Five years of marriage, fifty—suddenly felt less like a dream and more like an eventuality. They would get married and cure homophobia worldwide. With the quiet support of just one gay waiter, the life they longed for felt possible, perhaps to both of them for the first time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 8, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viktor Nikiforov Donates $15 Million US to Moscow-Based Child Services Organization** }

_ Viktor Nikiforov, Russian figure skating legend and three-time Olympic champion, has donated the equivalent of 15 million dollars to the Moscow-based organization [Right of the Child](http://humanrightshouse.org/Articles/5382.html), an NGO dedicated to child protection and services for children experiencing abuse in their homes. Nikiforov has said that he wants the money to be used for Right of the Child to expand their operation to St. Petersburg, his hometown. _

_ “There are so few resources for children in dangerous family situations,” Nikiforov said in a statement released concurrently with the announcement of the donation. “I want this money, my father’s money, to go to creating those resources in St. Petersburg, so that no child in my hometown is without a place to go.” _

_ After the recent death of his father, Nikiforov inherited approximately US $35 million. Fans of the skater have been wondering what he would do with the sudden increase in wealth after a drawn-out legal battle over the validity of his father’s will. Sources close to the family have said that father and son had not spoken in years. _

_ Nikiforov has also committed an additional five million dollars to starting a scholarship fund so that children from low-income situations can pursue figure skating as a sport. It seems that, instead of a lavish vacation, Nikiforov is most interested in investing in philanthropy with his inheritance. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo.... I have bronchitis, yay (っ- ‸ – ς) but I have prescriptions! from a doctor! with my health insurance! Having health insurance is the best. The plus side is that I wrote two more chapters for this yesterday while I was taking a sick day (there were significantly more grammatical errors in them than normal; I still feel bad for Blu and Den), and I am now so close to the end, guys. So close.
> 
> Tell me a story about the worst way you've been bullied, if you want to share. (I'm not crowdsourcing ideas at all...)
> 
> Right of the Child is a real organization in Moscow, and it is the only organization I could find that works in child protective services in Russia. They only operate in Moscow, from what I could tell. I didn't link to their official website because when I tried to visit it, my computer was attacked with malware, and even if it was an unrelated coincidence (I don't know shit about the internet, tbh), I'm like, kind of scarred...
> 
> Also, yes, I know that they moved the Dakar Rally to South America in 2008/2009


	29. Chapter 29

**March 8, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

Viktor was tired. He’d moved quickly after deciding what to do with the bulk of his inheritance money, and he’d spoken with so many people—Yakov, his financial advisor, his primary lawyer, the people from Right of the Child, three phone interviews—that he’d exhausted most of his sociability. He didn’t know how many ways he could talk about donating money to prevent child abuse without actually talking about being abused, and when he passed off generic, media-friendly answers, he felt hollow and plastic. He felt more plastic than he’d ever felt, more empty than he’d felt since before he arrived in Detroit. He’d slept fitfully after those conversations, with dreams of his mother punching him awake multiple times throughout the night. After a full day on the ice with little sleep, he wanted nothing more than to go back home and curl up around Yuuri in their narrow bed, but instead he was at Yuuri’s school sitting in on a Hillel meeting. While he’d been going to GSA meetings every week since he’d begun, this was his first time joining the Hillel group. He didn’t know how he felt about faith or God or religion, but he knew that Yuuri was interested in the topic, and he’d had a good time learning about Judaism when he’d visited the synagogue with Ketty and Lev, so he was trying to stay mentally engaged, but he was more than tired. He was exhausted.

He took another long drink from his water bottle, drained it again. He stifled a yawn and felt Yuuri’s arm wrap around his shoulder. He wanted to go home. With a jolt, he remembered—he didn’t actually live here yet. He still lived in Russia. He was returning to Russia on Saturday.

The meeting ended around him, but he didn’t notice the people leaving. Yuuri shook his shoulder. “Vitya? Hey—Vitya.”

“What? Sorry. Did I…was I asleep?”

“I think you just zoned out. Ketty and them are going to the diner. There’s space for us in the car, but if you just want to go back home, we can.”

 _Go back home_. He couldn’t go back home. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the next morning, and if he went home and fell asleep now, he would wake up another ten hours closer to St. Petersburg. He was tired, though, and all he wanted was to be alone with Yuuri. “No, let’s go,” he found himself saying. “I can wake myself up on the way.”

Yuuri pecked a kiss onto his cheek. “I can wake you up right now, if you want.”

“I think if you wake me up, we’ll never make it to the diner,” Viktor said. He stretched his arms above his head and stood up. He hid another yawn behind his hand. “Or back to the apartment.”

“Oh? Where would we make it? Because we couldn’t stay in the interfaith center.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri to his feet and whispered into his ear, “But what if I want to worship you?”

Yuuri shivered, then gently shoved his shoulders. “Fuck you, Nikiforov.”

“That’s what I’m asking you to do, yes. But later. First, you said something about a diner, and this might be my last chance to have poutine for a while, or to see Lev. So let’s go.”

Yuuri smiled and grabbed Viktor’s hand. He kissed his knuckles. “Okay, later then. I can definitely do that for you. But, yeah, let’s get poutine.” He pulled Viktor toward the door, and Viktor noticed that the room was completely empty. How long had he been so zoned out that he missed everyone around him leaving the room, even their friends? He only had three full days left in Detroit; he needed to take advantage of that time, not sleepwalk through it. He followed Yuuri blindly, trusting him as he navigated through what to Viktor was an unfamiliar part of campus.

Yuuri led them to a far parking lot, where they spotted Lev leaning against Ketty’s car. “Hey, you caught up,” the Hillel president called with a wave. “I thought you guys were probably going to bail.”

“Oh, no,” Viktor said. “I could never say no to poutine.” He and Yuuri climbed into the back seat of Ketty’s car, where Alex Garrison was sitting behind the driver’s side. Viktor took the middle, and Yuuri dropped his head onto Viktor’s shoulder immediately.

Lev buckled himself into the front passenger seat. “So, have we converted you yet?” he asked.

“To Judaism?”

“To Detroit.”

“Oh. I’m converted to wherever Yuuri is. Right now, that means Detroit, so yes. You’ll have to work harder on the Judaism, though, I’m afraid.”

Lev shrugged. “That’s not something I’m trying to do, but if you want me to, I guess Ican. Your faith is your own, whatever it is. I don’t know the details or anything, but I know you’ve had a hard life. A lot of people find solace in religion, and peace in prayer. I think, you don’t have to become a Jew, but any type of faith…it might be good for you. Like, what’s that quote from _Serenity_?”

Alex cleared his throat, “Shepard says, _I don’t care what you believe, Mal. Just believe_. And then he dies.”

“Spoilers,” Ketty said from behind the wheel.

Lev nodded. “I hope you don’t feel pressured, Viktor.”

Viktor shook his head. “No, no. Not at all. Thank you for including me.”

“Of course. Any not-shit boyfriend of Yuuri’s is always a friend of mine. Plus, you’re cool in your own right, too.”

“Thanks?”

Yuuri groaned. “I don’t have shit boyfriends. I literally have never had a boyfriend before Viktor. Not a real one, anyway. Oh. You guys should’ve heard Vitya telling Pres off the other day, by the way. It was like a knight in shining armor defending a noble princess or something. I almost turned into a woman right then and there.”

“Hey!” Viktor said. He bounced his shoulder, disturbing Yuuri’s comfort. “You said that you _liked_ what I said. I was just putting a prick in his place, Yuu-t—really, your masculinity was threatened by that?”

“No, but I think yours was threatened just now. You would still love me if I woke up a woman, though.”

“Of course,” Viktor said.

Ketty cooed from the driver’s seat. “True love, guys. Lev, would you still love me if I were a dude?”

“I would love to mess with Miriam. I would so love to mess with Miriam.”

“Not cool to use drag just to mess with people,” Yuuri mumbled, face half-buried in Viktor’s shoulder again. “Not even Miriam Cohen.”

“How is everyone’s least-favorite Cohen?” Alex asked.

“Awful,” Lev said. “Absolute worst. I’m not inviting her to our wedding, Ket.”

“Your mom and your aunt are gonna flip shit on us, and they’ll take it out on _me_ , so we’re inviting her. Yuuri, Alex—can we troll our homophobic relative by having her sit with you guys, or would you rather her be on the complete opposite side of the room for your own peace of mind.”

Yuuri sat up and leaned forward. “I don’t want any homophobes near Vitya. I already have to send him back to that lion’s den once, even if it’s only for a couple of weeks. I don’t want him to have to suffer ever again. If it were just me, I’d say yes, and we could give her hell. But Vitya deserves to never see another homophobe again in his life.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor said his name, but didn’t know how to end his thought. Or maybe he didn’t know which thought to pick to say aloud. His chest was warm, but his gut was heavy. Lion’s den, indeed. He’d made a circle of friends here in Detroit; at least, he’d been folded into Yuuri’s group of friends as seamlessly as a chef making a soufflé folds the beaten egg whites into the rest of the ingredients. In St. Petersburg, he’d begun to form a real friendship with Georgi, but his teenaged rink mates couldn’t be burdened with the responsibility of helping him with his emotional care. He had Makkachin waiting for him. Makkachin, who was getting old.

The car jerked to a stop, and Viktor noticed that they had arrived. He waited for Yuuri to step down before clambering out after him and stretching his legs. Inside, the group was seated at a round table for six. Viktor scooted his chair closer to Yuuri and reached for his hand under the edge of the tablecloth. _Hold his hand. Hold his hand._ Viktor needed to hold his hand, at least until the poutine came. He only had three full days left after tonight. Three full days of Yuuri.

The poutine came, and Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand in a way that signaled him to let go. Viktor let go, and felt his hand grow cold immediately. He picked up a fork and stabbed into the pile of steaming fries and gravy and cheese curds on the plate, chewed his bite slowly. He put his fork down, picked it up again, pushed at some of the fries, took another small bite. He could feel Yuuri watching him. He took another bite.

“So,” Ketty said, “Viktor, you’re going back to Russia.”

“Unfortunately,” he said.

“Well, someone’s excited,” Alex said. “What are you going to miss the most when you get there?”

“Yuuri, of course,” Viktor said. “Yuuri, my therapist, my civil liberties. Yuuri’s friends, so all of you. Mostly Yuuri.”

“We’ll be together again in two weeks,” Yuuri said, voice soft and sad. “It’s not like I’m dying.”

“I think I might, without you.” When Yuuri didn’t respond right away, Viktor added, “Not that I’m planning on it.” He felt like an idiot; Yuuri was already worried enough about him. He didn’t need to add to Yuuri’s burden any more. He ought to be holding himself together better, but he wasn’t. At some point in the day, Viktor wasn’t sure when, his mind had turned dark. _Self-talk_ , he thought. He could think himself out of this. He was capable, he was cared for by others outside of Yuuri, he was needed, he was loved.

“Well, good,” Lev said from across the table. “Because Yuuri needs that plus one for the wedding.”

“Are you guys officially engaged now?” Yuuri asked. “Because you keep talking about the wedding.”

“Well, yes and no,” Ketty said. “Lev’s all obsessed with the whole down-on-one-knee thing, and that hasn’t happened yet, but it’s coming up soon, right?”

“Secret.”

Ketty rolled her eye and turned her attention back on Viktor. “So, you’re pretty scared to go back, aren’t you? What can we do to help?”

Viktor’s eyes widened and he drew in a small gasp. “You want to help?”

“Of course,” Ketty said. She exchanged a warm, knowing look with Lev and with Alex. “We’re your friends.”

Viktor nodded, slowly. Friends. “Yes,” he said, breaking into the silence that had begun to settle over the table. “I’m scared.” He swallowed a sudden lump of nerves in his throat. “And I can’t stop thinking…I can’t stop thinking about…I can’t stop thinking about what happened with my mother, and Yevgraf, and I’m…I’m so afraid. I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go.” He drew a deep breath, steadied himself. “But I have to do it,” he said. He had to get Makkachin, he had to pack up. He had to come home to Yuuri, wherever that might be. “I have to do it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 9, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri rolled into Viktor’s chest, pressed his ear to the warm skin and covered his other with a pillow. He groaned when he felt Viktor shaking his shoulder.

“Yuuri, your phone is ringing.”

“Huh?”

“Phone.”

Yuuri sat up and yanked the face mask off before answering the call. “ _Moshi moshi_? Oh, Dr. Villanueva. Uh, good morning?”

On the other end of the phone, the Women’s and Gender Studies professor said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have left my phone on full volume if I wasn’t prepared to be woken up. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she said, “and no. I need someone to cover a class for me tomorrow, and the departmental assistant this term has a class at the same time, so she can’t do it. It’s a family emergency, and I can’t cancel this class, but I also have to be in Ann Arbor as soon as possible. I know it’s probably inconvenient, but would you be willing to take over for one class? I can cancel the other ones, but this is [ _Paris is Burning_ ](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0100332/) day, and there won’t be time to make it up later in the semester.”

Yuuri perked up. “Can I bring my boyfriend?”

“Sure, if you can do it, that is not a problem to me at all. I’ll leave the DVD with Tracy in the department office. I owe you one, kid.”

“It’s no problem. You’re doing the talk for Pride Day, right?”

“Yep, as far as I know. It’s an important topic. I’m glad GSA settled on this.”

“It was Phichit’s idea.”

“Phichit is a good kid, too. Thank you so much, Yuuri. Oh, while I have you—when do you think you’ll be getting your first draft in?”

“Before Worlds,” Yuuri said. “I’m almost done with it. There’s just been a lot going on. If I weren’t practicing so much, I think I would be completely done by now.”

“Well, don’t stress about it too much. You have until the end of the month for the first draft, and until the end of the semester for corrections. It’ll be publishable in no time. I can’t wait to read it. I know I’m not your thesis advisor, but if you want a second set of eyes, I’d be glad to give you a hand.”

“Thanks, Professor. I would appreciate that.”

“No, thank _you_ . It would break my heart if the queer theory kids didn’t have the _Paris is Burning_ day. You’re the one who’s doing me the favor. You don’t have to lead discussion on it if you don’t want, but feel free to if you do. It’s mostly important that they actually watch the film.”

“Don’t worry, I will make them work.”

“I knew I could count on you. Okay, I’ll leave the DVD with Tracy, then. Good luck!”

“Um, I hope your family emergency gets better soon?”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me right now. Okay, that stuff will be with Tracy. Bye.”

“Bye.” Yuuri hung up, then silenced his phone. He sunk back into the bed and clung to Viktor’s torso. “Want to watch a movie tomorrow? It’s a good one. Drag queens. Trans women. The eighties.”

“I’d love to,” Viktor said. He kissed the top of Yuuri’s head, then his lips. The slow intimacy grew between them, soft and deep and delicate. When the heat began to build, they chased it to its end.

 

 

Two hours later, they arrived at the rink and fell into chairs in Celestino’s office. Celestino positioned the webcam clipped to the top of his desktop computer so that he, his skater and his Russian adoptee were all in frame. On his screen, the little Yuri looked to be grumbling, and Yakov was sitting behind him, clearly frustrated. No sound came through, then suddenly, Yuri’s voice shouted through the tinny speakers. “Finally! This computer is almost as old as you are, Yakov. How do you do anything with it?”

“Out,” the Russian coach pointed to the door.

“Oi, Viktor, don’t forget—you said you’d watch my SP from the plane. You better watch it from the plane.”

“I won’t miss it, Yura.”

Yuri left the office with a heavy slam of the door. Yakov sighed and shook his head. “That boy is worse than you were, Vitya. I don’t know what to do.”

“Hmm,” Viktor placed a finger on his lips. “Lilia. She’ll help him be reborn.”

“You’ve had worse ideas. Like retiring. Vitya, you could keep competing for at least another two or three years. Reconsider it.”

“I can’t,” Viktor shook his head. “I can’t skate for Russia. I can’t live in St. Petersburg. I can’t do it anymore, Yakov. I want out.”

“You could skate for another federation, skate with a different coach. You don’t have to retire.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said, “he’s not wrong.”

Viktor shook his head again. “I can’t do that. If…if I ever want to be accepted in Russia, if I want to see change, I can’t spit on what I’ve done for Russia by doing it for someone else. I also can’t keep doing it. I have to retire, and I have to leave the country for good.”

“Where will you live?”

“With me,” Yuuri said, voice barely audible. When Yakov didn’t hear, Viktor nudged him with his elbow. Louder, he said, “Vitya’s going to stay with me. We just…haven’t decided where, yet.”

“Yuuri?” Celestino said. “What are you thinking?”

Yuuri looked away from his coach and from his lover. “I want to go back to Hasetsu, and not just for a visit. I don’t know about for the rest of my life, but for at least a year or two. But I know that no one’s going to come all the way out to nowhere, Japan to coach me. That’s why we asked to talk with you both. We need advice. We don’t know what to do.”

Celestino cleared his throat. “Yakov, you should know I offered your student a job as an assistant coach here in Detroit. He seemed hesitant about it.”

“I don’t think I’d be a good coach,” Viktor said. “I know I’m good at choreography, and I’m going to do Yuuri’s choreo next season, but I don’t know about coaching.”

“I think he’d be a good coach,” Yuuri said.

“Well, why don’t you try coaching Yuuri?” Celestino asked.

“What?” Viktor said.

“Think of it as a trial run,” Celestino said. “You already work well together, and you’ve helped him improve much more in the past few months than I have in the past year. If Yuuri wants to take a year in Hasetsu, I’d be glad to work long distance with him, but he’s right that I couldn’t be there full-time. So, let’s have you join the team. You’ll be on the ground in Japan, and I’ll offer what I can long distance.”

“Vitya, don’t sit there with your mouth dropped open like that. Answer the man.”

“ _Da_ , sorry. I…well, Yuuri and I had talked about doing something like that,” Viktor confessed. He could see Yuuri turning red and shifting in his seat. He put a hand on Yuuri’s knee to steady him. “But I…aren’t there…ethical questions?”

“Ethical questions?” Celestino repeated. “I don’t see any. Yakov? This is your skater I’m recruiting, here.”

“If you make this career choice, Vitya, you most likely won’t be able to come back to competing.”

“It would really solve a lot of the problems,” Celestino said. “You and Yuuri can be together, You get out of Russia, Yuuri gets to be in Japan, you get hands-on coaching experience with someone who trusts you already.”

“But we’re dating,” Yuuri said. “Vitya is my boyfriend. Isn’t—don’t we have a conflict of interest?”

“If Vitya wants to leave competition because he fell in love, and if he wants to die an activist, then it would be an effective political move,” Yakov said. “I spent so much time trying to keep that boy safe, and he just wants to throw it all away and become a martyr.”

“I don’t want to be a martyr,” Viktor said. “I don’t know if I even want to be an activist. I just want to live my life _and_ be happy. I want that chance, Yakov.”

Yakov sighed and looked past his camera into an unseen corner of his office. “I want you to have it. What I never had. Vitya, whether you like it or not, you’re already seen as an activist just for wanting to exist in public. Promise me you’ll wait until we’re in Tokyo to make any announcements about next season.”

“Of course,” Viktor said. “Oh, and Yakov. You can send anyone to me who wants choreography. Just, send them to me. I’ll either be here or in Japan, I suppose…Yuuri? What are you thinking now about next season?”

Yuuri looked from Celestino to Yakov in the screen before focusing on his lover. “Be my coach, Viktor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Paris Is Burning_ is on Netflix. Watch it. Trust me.
> 
> This documentary kept coming up in the books we were reading in my queer theory class at the beginning of the semester, and I'd never seen it, so I watched it and cried a lot and it was one of the most important things I've watched all year. It didn't change the direction of this story exactly, but it changed a lot of the tone and my mindset when I write.
> 
> I want Vitya to see this movie, and I may or may not have planned his entire Detroit trip to end with it, because I think it's that important that, when he goes back to Russia after his six-odd weeks of liberation, I want one of the last images in his mind to be _Paris Is Burning_.


	30. Chapter 30

**March 10, 2016, Evening – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri leaned on a table in the front of the classroom, DVD case in his hand. Viktor had taken a seat at a desk in the front corner of the room, opposite the door. Yuuri fiddled with the case, popped it open and closed while the dozen or so students slowly filtered into the room. He recognized a few of them, but didn’t really know anyone personally. It was probably better that he didn’t; he could perform in front of strangers.

“Hi, guys,” he said when he counted thirteen bodies in the seats. “Dr. Villanueva asked me to come in and run class for you tonight. I’m Yuuri, and that’s Viktor. I was the WGS department assistant last spring, and I used to be the vice president of the GSA on campus. I do some LGBT rights advocacy in my home country, too, so…um…Yeah?”

“Is Dr. Villanueva okay?” a girl near the front asked.

“Yeah, she’s fine. She had a family thing, and the current department assistant has a class right now, so that’s why we’re here. Um. Have any of you ever seen  _ Paris is Burning _ before? Okay, that’s one of you, which is better than when I took this class three years ago and none of us had even heard of it. Um. Alright, then. It’s not too long, so I’m just going to start it, and then we’ll have a discussion about it until the end of class time. So, if you’re the kind of person who takes notes, I’d get that stuff out now. Oh, and phones off. Completely. Vitya, that means you too.”

“I wouldn’t dream of texting through this, Yuuri. You’ve been talking about this all day.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Okay, any questions before I start it? No? Good.” Yuuri popped the disc out of the case and slid it into the DVD player connected to the projector. He adjusted the audio and set closed captioning on.

“Do you have to put the subtitles on?” One of the students complained.

Yuuri walked to the light switch and dimmed the room. “English isn’t my first language. Sue me. Plus, it’s a good reminder of the fact that not everyone can hear.” He pressed the play button on the tiny remote, and the documentary began. He ducked beneath the stream of the projector and crossed the room, settled into the seat by Viktor. In the dark room, he reached for Viktor’s hand, and Viktor pushed his fingers between Yuuri’s.

Viktor let their linked hands settle on top of the student desk attached to his chair before turning his attention to the screen. Yuuri held his breath while he watched Viktor watching the documentary. The light from the projected image shined in Viktor’s eyes as he took in the story of the New York City balls, drag queens like Pepper LaBeija and Angie Xtravaganza who mothered competitive houses of gay men and trans women, the origins of voguing. It was a culture, a gay culture of people dying to stand out and dying to belong.

Yuuri watched Viktor start to recognize himself in these people who had all since died, people whose parents disowned them, people who’d experienced abuse and neglect for their sexuality, who’d disappeared from their lives in order to be free. When Venus Xtravaganza spoke of her desire to be a housewife on Long Island, Yuuri felt Viktor’s grip tighten. Viktor laughed, sighed, grew quiet, and when Willi Ninja achieved success and broke the mainstream as a choreographer, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hand with both of his and squeezed it, practically bouncing in his seat.

His grip slackened when Angie Xtravaganza reported on the murder of Venus, and Yuuri could see the image on the screen reflected in Viktor’s tears. With his free hand, Yuuri wiped the trailing liquid from his lover’s cheek. Viktor responded by tugging Yuuri’s held hand to his lips and planting a soft kiss on his knuckles.

As the credits rolled, Yuuri gave his hand a squeeze before ducking back across the room to turn on the lights. He turned off the projector and pulled the DVD from the drive, returning it to its box. “Okay,” he said, “what did you guys think?” Yuuri sat in the front of the room on top of the table while the thirteen students discussed first their favorite parts, then their frustrations, then finally analyzing the film. He exchanged furtive glances with Viktor, who looked like he wanted to join the conversation, but also looked overwhelmed by the budding theorists. Yuuri barely had to prod to get the group to stay focused; Dr. Villanueva had a good group of students. Yuuri could understand why she hadn’t wanted to cancel this class.

At 8:25 pm, Yuuri cleared his throat. “It looks like it’s about time, so thank you guys for showing up and sharing this with us. Dr. Villanueva should be back next week, so do her a favor and be here.”

“Do you know what we’re doing next week?”

“No clue,” Yuuri said. “I think that’s what your syllabus is for. Now go home; this is a ridiculous time to be in a classroom.”

The students were quick to disappear, three of them thanking Yuuri for stepping in at the last minute. Alone in the classroom, Yuuri pulled Viktor to his feet, then into a hug. “I hope you liked it,” he said into Viktor’s neck with the ghost of a kiss on his skin.

“I can’t believe she died,” Viktor said. “It’s not fair. Do you know where the rest of them are?”

“Honey, most of them are dead,” Yuuri said. “I looked them all up on Wikipedia when I watched this the first time, well, the ones who had Wikipedia pages. None of them are still alive.”

“That’s horrible.”

Yuuri held Viktor tightly. “I’m glad we’re alive right now, though. I’m glad I could share this with you.”

“Me, too,” Viktor said. “I’m glad we’re alive.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 11, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

Viktor and Yuuri woke to the sound of sharp knocking on the door. “Fuck you,” Yuuri called.

“Wake up, bitches, this is important,” Phichit called back. He jiggled the door handle, but couldn’t open it. “Yuuri, how could you lock me out?”

“Fuck you, Phichit,” Yuuri said. “Do you  _ want _ to break into our room while we’re having sex? No. It’s locked for your own peace of mind. Now go the fuck to sleep. It’s too early.”

“If you don’t get up now, you’ll miss the puppy parade, and then the whole day will be ruined, Yuuri. Viktor?”

Viktor whined and pulled a pillow over his ear. “I don’t want to get up,” he whispered. “Can’t we just stay here? Never leave? I never want to leave.”

“Guys, seriously, I did something nice for you. I just need you to wake the fuck up now, so it doesn’t all get derailed.”

“You stay,” Yuuri whispered to Viktor with a kiss on his forehead. He got out of bed and unlocked the door, fixed Phichit with murderous eyes. “It is six in the fucking morning on Viktor’s last full day with me. This better be fucking important, because I will slaughter you.”

“That’s exactly why you need to get up and spend the day to its fullest!” Phichit said. He pushed a padded manila envelope into Yuuri’s arms. “That’s your itinerary for the day! Open each part at the time specified on the envelopes, and you shouldn’t have a problem. Just, the first thing starts at seven thirty, so you need to be up now if you both want to shower and make it on time.”

“What is this?” Yuuri dug through the contents of the envelope, revealed multiple sealed letter-sized envelopes and a paper plate glued to a popsicle stick with a picture of Phichit’s face, hand covering his mouth in a shocked expression, taped to the bottom.

“That’s me, and you can carry me around so that I can be in Viktor’s pictures for his Instagram, so you can pretend we were all supposed to do this stuff together for the internet and that I bailed on you last-minute.”

“What?”

“Just trust me. You need to catch the bus in fifty-three minutes, Yuuri. Wake up your boyfriend. Trust me.”

Yuuri groaned. “It’s too early for this, Phi. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“I am calling it Phichit-a-Date, and you are going to love it! I’ve been working on the details of this since literally the moment Viktor booked his return flight.”

“What’s this for, Phi?”

“You. It’s for you and Viktor to have an awesome and fun last day together before he has to go back to Russia and we all have to get our heads geared up for Worlds. Neither of you have had enough time to plan anything, and if it weren’t for this, then you’d both probably just stay in bed all day crying about how much you’ll miss each other, so you’re not going to do that. You’re going to go out into the world and enjoy each other. And that starts with the puppy parade.”

Yuuri looked at Phichit, searched him for any sign of a prank or malice. All he saw was his best friend eagerly awaiting confirmation that the couple would go along with his plan. Yuuri rolled his eyes. “I’ll see what he wants to do.” Closing the door on Phichit, he walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. There were seven standard-sized envelopes inside of the large one, in addition to the Phichit plate. “Do you trust Phichit?” he asked Viktor.

“Not at six in the morning,” Viktor said. “What’s going on?”

Yuuri took the first envelope, labeled  _ 7:00 _ , and opened it. “Phi planned a whole day for us as a going away present for you. He said ‘puppy parade’ twice, and I don’t know what that means, but puppies.” From inside the envelope, he pulled out an orange flyer and a printed email confirmation for two participants.

Viktor groaned again and pushed himself up. “If it’s a present for me, why does it involve waking up so early?” He leaned on Yuuri to read the flyer.

“You always woke up at six before you came here. This…actually looks pretty cool. Phichit signed us up to walk dogs through downtown for an animal rescue. We have to be there by 7:30, though, to get oriented and pick up the dogs.”

Viktor stretched his arms and the muscles in his back. “If we shower together, do we have time to make it and still have morning sex?”

“Phichit is still outside the door.”

“He should’ve told us about this yesterday instead of waking us up. It’s really his fault, Yuuri. I mean, if you don’t want to…”

“How about  _ in _ the shower?”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #1: 7:00. Contents: Puppy Parade Volunteer Confirmation Email_ **

Viktor adjusted the t-shirt over his sweater so that the fabrics weren’t bunching together in uncomfortable places. Yuuri had ripped his own shirt off and replaced it with the volunteer shirt. They matched, with bright purple shirts reading  _ Faithful Friends Volunteer  _ on the back and  _ Puppy Parade 2016  _ on the front in large, white block letters. They were two of about thirty people, mostly volunteers, but with two shelter staff in the group wearing pink.

“Alright,” one of the shelter staff began, “a lot of you are here with partners, so we’re going to walk the dogs in groups of two. Follow the map, but let’s keep about half a block distance between each pair. We want people to see the dogs, but we don’t want the dogs to congest foot traffic or get overwhelmed. Grab a partner if you don’t have one, and we’ll assign you your dogs for the morning.”

Despite the early morning start, Viktor was buzzing with excitement. It had been so long since he’d seen his Makkachin, and he couldn’t wait to see the old dog, but this would be a good way to kill the pent-up blues until Sunday, when he could hold Makkachin again. Beside Viktor, Yuuri was also ready to spend some time with the dogs. It had been so long, so so long, since he’d held Vicchan, and now he’d never get another chance. Yuuri clung to Viktor’s arm, practically bouncing.

When it was their turn, they met a spaniel mix named Chuck and a pit bull named Sadie. Taking the leads, the flyers to hand out to interested passers by, and the map of the route, they set off. After three blocks with Sadie, Yuuri traded leads with Viktor. Chuck pulled, hard, but Yuuri’s upper arm strength kept the dog in line.

By the time they got back to the shelter, they’d handed out all of their flyers and done three impromptu interviews with different groups of paparazzi. Chuck and Sadie both could be expecting homes.

Yuuri checked his watch; it was 10:14 am. “We can open the next envelope now, right?

 

 

 

**_Envelope #2: 10:30. Contents:_ ** [ **_Parc_ ** ](http://www.parcdetroit.com/dine-drink/brunch/) **_gift card for free mimosas_ **

Yuuri had replaced the volunteer shirt with the plain black shirt he’d picked for the day, and he sat across from Viktor at a small table. It was 11:15 in the morning, their brunch order was placed, and their mimosas had arrived. Viktor lifted his glass to take a sip, and Yuuri watched the slope of his neck. He wanted to kiss the bobbing Adam’s apple, but he held himself back. He sipped his own drink, a nonalcoholic option.

“We should take another selfie,” Viktor said. “With Plate Phichit.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Do we have to?”

Viktor pulled out his phone. “Real Phichit will be upset if we don’t get one at each of his stops, don’t you think? Plus, we can shame him on social media for bailing on us.”

“But he didn’t bail on us; he planned this whole thing so that we’d have a good day together before you leave.”

“It was his idea to claim that he bailed, for the press. If we play into it, maybe he’ll regret waking us up at six in the morning. I mean, it’s been a lovely day so far, but I’m still tired.”

Yuuri dug into the backpack where he was carrying the volunteer shirts and the envelope of date plans until he found Plate Phichit. He slid his chair around the table until he and Viktor were next to each other. He held the plate in one hand and flashed a victory sign with the other while Viktor snapped the selfie. Yuuri stifled a yawn, whispered, “Phi didn’t know we were up until two fucking, so I guess we can’t blame him for that.”

Viktor blushed at the memories from last night, swallowed. “If you’re too tired, we can go back.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Nope. Phichit spent money on this shit, and I am going to use his money and have a great fucking time. Unless you’re too tired.”

“Not at all,” Viktor said. “At least, I think not.”

Their food arrived quickly, and they ate it quickly, too fast to savor it as much as either would have liked. On too little sleep, though, both were feeling the lack of energy draining on their bodies. When they finished with their dessert, Viktor paid the check and looked at the time.

“It’s 11:55. Should we open the next envelope?”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #3: 12:00. Contents:_ ** [ **_Dance! American Art Exhibit_ ** ](https://www.dia.org/art/exhibitions/dance-american-art-1830-1960) **_Sneak Preview_ **

“Really, your friend was quite insistent that we allow you to come view the exhibit, and he’s not even with you. This is very strange, sirs. I hope you understand.” The museum curator was wringing his hands, and Yuuri recognized it as an anxious tick. The exhibit,  _ Dance! American Art 1830-1960 _ , wasn’t set to be open to the public until the 20 th , but they were here on the 11 th .

“We have Plate Phichit,” Viktor said. “He’s really sorry he couldn—”

“He set us up to go on a date before Viktor leaves the country,” Yuuri said. “He…”

“Yuuri,” Viktor whisper-screamed, “the whole reason he did that was to help keep it from going public.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri said. “My brain to mouth filter isn’t working. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

The curator sighed. “Right this way, gentlemen. I won’t tell a soul.”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #4: 14:00. Contents:_ ** [ **_Great Lakes Coffee_ ** ](https://greatlakescoffee.com/) **_gift card totaling $20.00_ **

“I’m so tired, Vitya,” Yuuri slumped over the table they’d taken at the coffee shop. “I think I’m going to die.”

“You’re spending Phichit’s money. Stay strong.”

“There are three more envelopes, Vitya.”

“I know, love. But this one is just coffee. And there’s enough money on the gift card for muffins.”

“Muffins that make me fat.”

“We got four hours of sleep. We need the carbs.”

“I want the biggest one they have, so long as it’s not disgusting. Nothing with bran. That shit is gross.”

“What’s bran?”

“Gross.”

“I’ll google it, I guess.  _ Otrubi. _ Okay. Bran. That’s not gross. It’s high in fiber.”

“Don’t need fiber, need sleep. Carb me, Vitya. Fuck my diet.”

Viktor disappeared from the table and came back with two large blueberry muffins. “This one is the larger one,” he said, placing a muffin in front of Yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s eyes were closed, but he inhaled the aroma of the pastry.

“I was thinking,” he said, eyes still closed, “we should just open the rest of the envelopes now and decide whether or not to go through with it all.”

“Oh,” Viktor tore a piece off of the top of his muffin and popped it in his mouth. “I was having fun with the surprises.”

Yuuri groaned and, with his head still on the table and his eyes still closed, began to eat the muffin in front of him. “Fine, let’s not then. Can we at least open the next one now?”

“Okay,” Viktor said. “We can skip it if you think you’re too tired for whatever it is and go take a nap.”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #5: 15:15. Contents: Shakespeare in the Park @ Campus Martius Park_ **

Viktor held the to-go coffee cup in his hands, the warmth radiating from his palms. It wasn’t cold out; his phone said it was seven degrees and the sun was shining, but the breeze was a little chilly. In the seat next to him, Yuuri was slumped over, head on his knees. With one hand, Viktor rubbed circles into his back. “Are you cold, Yuu-tan?”

“Not really,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric of his jeans. “Just really tired.”

“We can go home and sleep, if you want. We don’t have to stay for this.”

“Vitya, you literally clapped and jumped up and down when we opened the fifth envelope. You are not missing this. I refuse. I just might fall asleep, and I don’t want you to hate me for it.”

“Why would I hate you for that?”

“I don’t know.” Yuuri said up. “It’s Phichit’s money, right? It would be a crime if we didn’t stay when Phichit is paying.”

“Um, this is a free event, but yes. Phichit did arrange this. Oh, let’s take a pre-show selfie with Plate Phichit.”

“Fine.”

Viktor held Plate Phichit in between them and snapped the picture. “You look dead in this,” he said when he opened it up in Instagram and began searching for the perfect filter to minimize both of their under-eye bags.

“I’m dead inside,” Yuuri said. “Completely dead. The rest is silence.”

“They’re putting on  _ The Tempest _ .”

“I know. I just relate to Hamlet on a deep, spiritual level. He’s the patron saint of fucked up depressed people, after all.”

“This is true, I agree. But  _ The Tempest  _ is a better play.”

“ _ King Lear  _ is a better play,” Yuuri muttered under his breath. He dropped his head onto Viktor’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Touché.”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #6: 19:00. Contents: Dinner reservations @_ ** [ **_La Dolce Vita_ ** ](https://ldvrestaurant.net/dinner-menu)

“Are you sure about this, Vitya? Phi definitely said all he did was make reservations. This isn’t Phichit’s money.”

“Yuuri, I am a multimillionaire. I could literally spend $600,000 a year without working another day in my life and never lose wealth.”

“And how much have you already spent today? I know you gave money to the animal shelter.”

“Well, I gave the animal shelter five thousand dollars, then I gave another five thousand to the Detroit Institute of Art, plus the brunch, so about ten thousand thirty-four dollars? But if you don’t count the donations, about thirty-four dollars. Another hundred dollars or so isn’t going to break the bank.”

“When did you donate money to the DIA?”

“When you were in the bathroom. I was bored, and the curator was very kind to us.”

“You gave away five thousand dollars because you were bored.”

“Yes. I’ve hardly spent any money since I got here, you know. It’s not a big deal.”

“You literally purchased an entire new wardrobe and suitcase set to get those clothes back to St. Petersburg.”

“Yes, well, I  _ might _ have signed a small modeling contract to get some of those things for free. There will be a spread next month in GQ. What’s that look for? Want me to get you a signed copy to keep under your bed?”

“Fuck you, Nikiforov.”

“Not right now, but maybe later?”

“Thank God Phichit asked them for their most private table, oh my god. What are you getting? My diet is already fucked today.”

“I’m not sure yet. You?”

“I was thinking the penne norma…”

“I thought you said you hated eggplant. Don’t pick something you don’t like just because it’s the least expensive option. Do you want to get a bottle of wine? No, that’s alcohol, never mind…oh, we could get the artichoke hearts to share, and the escargot in puff pastry. That sounds like it must be good. What do you think?”

“You’re going to spend a lot of money.”

“Again, darling, I am literally a multimillionaire. Forget about the money.”

“The New York Strip does sound good.”

“Wonderful. I’m getting the Cartoccio con Darna di Salmone. The real question left is if we want three appetizers, because I think bruschetta would also be good. Do you mind if I drink a glass of wine?”

“You know, it’s your last night and I haven’t had any alcohol in months. Let’s just get a bottle. No more after that, though. None. Cut me off, Vitya. Do not let me drink too much.”

“I can do that.”

 

 

 

**_Envelope #7: 20:30. Contents: Two free games @_ ** [ **_Garden Bowl_ ** ](http://majesticdetroit.com/garden-bowl-detroit/)

Yuuri picked up several different balls, testing their weights. With a little alcohol in his system—not too much—he was feeling much more awake than he had all day. “I can’t believe you’ve never gone bowling before, Viktor. You’re so—”

“Don’t say it—”

“ _ Sheltered _ . Seriously, what have you been doing all these years?” He found a ball that he liked, heavy and dark blue and purple, then moved it onto the ball return.

Viktor shrugged and picked up a bowling ball. “Figure skating. How heavy should these things be?”

Yuuri suppressed a grin and took the ball from his hands. “This is too light for you. Pick up mine and tell me if it’s too heavy. You didn’t have  _ any _ off-ice interests at all?  _ Ever? _ ”

“Well, there is this show I like. Did you know that Georgi’s mother is an actress? I had no idea, and I’ve been watching her on this show religiously for years.” He picked up the ball off of the return, then placed it back down. “That’s so much heavier.”

“Well, the first one you picked up is for kids. Do you want one that’s as heavy as mine?”

“Maybe not quite? You have stronger arms than I do, and you know what you’re doing.”

Yuuri began combing through the balls he’d already tested until he found one that he thought Viktor would like. It was bright pink with swirls of orange glitter throughout. “Try this one,” he said.

Viktor held the ball gingerly, fingers curling into the holes. “I think this is good.”

“It’s very you. Do you want me to go request bumpers?”

“If I die, I will die like a man. No.” Viktor placed the ball on the return and watched Yuuri put their information into the computer. Yuuri had just finished inputting Viktor’s name when they both picked up their names being spoken nearby. A quick glance around, and Viktor spotted three young teenaged girls. “Brace yourself for fans,” he said to Yuuri before waving at the girls with a bright media smile.

The girls squealed, and one of them rushed over. “Excuse me, are you Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri took a deep breath and forced a smile. Bowling with fans. He looked at Viktor, tried to keep his desperation to a minimum. Behind Viktor’s façade, Yuuri could see his irritation as well. Yuuri nodded. At least they were in this together.  “Yes, that’s us.”

Viktor, still smiling, asked, “Would you girls like autographs?”

“Omg, can we? Please? I can’t believe they gave us the lane next to you! You must be so good at bowling, since you’re like, famous athletes.”

Yuuri smirked. He was good at bowling, but Viktor… “Tell you what,” Yuuri said to the girl. “You girls help me teach Viktor how to bowl and don’t make a huge deal about us being here, and we’ll buy you a pizza.”

“Yuuri, I’m crushed. You think I can’t bowl at all?”

“Vitya, you have never been bowling before in your life and you turned down bumpers. You probably won’t even score over seventy.”

“What’s your high score?”

“263.”

“Okay, what’s the highest you can score?”

“300.”

Viktor whistled. “Okay, well, what was your worst score?”

“The Grand Prix Final this year.”

“You know what I mean. What do I have to beat?”

“You think you can beat me?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you, Nikiforov.”

“Children present.”

“Sorry,” Yuuri said to the girl. Her friends had, at that point, already joined; all three teens were staring at the two figure skaters, eyes wide. Yuuri turned his focus back to Viktor. “Okay, how about this? I bet you that you can’t bowl higher than my SP score in Sochi. Loser does whatever the winner wants day after the Gala in Tokyo.”

“What was your score after the short again? Eighty-four point something?”

“Yeah.”

“So, then I need to score at least eighty-five to win?”

“No bumpers, your first game. Winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.”

“You’re on, Katsuki.”

Twenty minutes later, Viktor collapsed onto a sofa, three giggling teenage girls and a pile of pizza crusts surrounding him. He held the back of his hand to his forehead. “It’s no use. I’m not even playing to beat him, but it’s so discouraging. Yuuuuuri, how could you do this to me?”

Yuuri picked up the blue and purple ball. “Don’t distract me; this is my last throw. I win, by the way.” He threw the ball and it rolled into a perfect strike.

“Well, I’m going to win in Tokyo,” Viktor pouted.

“Nope, I already win there, too.”

“You can get silver, if you want it. I’m  _ taking _ that gold.”

“But I’ll still  _ win _ . You forget that I’m from Japan, and I also just won the bet. I’ll have all sorts of plans for you, Vitya. Just you wait.”

Viktor groaned. “Fuck you, Yuuri.”

“Children present.”

“You’re not even from Tokyo.”

“Don’t care. Brace yourself.”

“Consider me braced. What are you doing?”

“Be right back.” Yuuri disappeared in the direction of the shoe rental counter and came back with a sheet of paper, the results of their game displayed in large font. An employee followed him. “Okay,” Yuuri said. “Where’s Plate Phichit? We need to get a picture. Girls, do you want to be featured on Viktor’s Instagram?”

The girls nodded and jumped up, pulled Viktor to his feet. Viktor held the popsicle stick attached to Phichit’s face, and Yuuri held up the results of their first game. The employee asked them to smile, and the teenagers crowded into the skaters’ space. Once Viktor had his phone back, he started looking for the best filter. “I can’t believe I didn’t even beat 85.”

“It was your first game ever, and you wouldn’t take any pointers from anyone because you’re a stubborn asshole. We have one more free game. Do you want to actually learn how to play now?”

Viktor sighed and looked at the first game results. YUU – 237; VIKT – 62. He could do better than that. He  _ had  _ to do better than that. “Let’s do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys!! If you didn't get a chance to check out Paris is Burning, here's a link to a good clip on shade/reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnVSklVO-t4
> 
> Also, I think it was CharmingMonsters who suggested having Phichit plan a date for them so that they wouldn't have to do it themselves? Thank you for that idea; Phichit had QUITE a lot of fun with it...
> 
> In other news, I am going to a Fall Out Boy concert on Thursday night in Fairfax, Virginia (do I live anywhere near Fairfax, Virginia? No. I do not) with two of my best friends from high school (do they live near Fairfax, Virginia? Yes, they do). So the chances of me updating on Thursday are preeeetty small right now. I won't get home until Sunday, so I'm not sure about Saturday coming up, either. If I get something up, I will get something up. If not, I will see you all next Tuesday.
> 
> (considering this is Viktor's last day before leaving, it's probably a good [frustrating] place to take a small break)
> 
> I love you all!


	31. Chapter 31

**March 14, 2016, Evening – St. Petersburg, Russia**

{link}

{ **Viktor’s Last Day in Detroit/First Day Back Home** }

{icon image: Viktor and Yuuri and Phichit posing for a photo with a fan at Detroit International Airport}

79,041 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

Published March 14, 2016

Video description: A special thanks to Georgi Popovich, who filmed the footage in St. Petersburg and sent it to us. We already miss Viktor and can’t wait to see him at World’s in just a couple of weeks! – Yuuri & Phichit

I’d like to give my thanks to Celestino and Francesca Cialdini, Yuuri Katsuki, Phichit Chulanont, Ketty Abelashvili, Lev Cohen, Deandre Hartshorn and Alex Garrison for their unfailing hospitality and kindness while I stayed with Yuuri and Phichit in Detroit. These past several weeks have challenged me and changed me; I don’t know where I would be without them. Thank you for welcoming me with such open arms while I was in need. – Viktor

{Video contents:

 

_Scene: Yuuri’s bedroom, two suitcases lie on top of the bed. Camera pans in on Viktor’s face while he double-checks his suitcases._

_Y off-camera: Come on, Phi, leave him alone._

_P off-camera: But Yuuri, we have to document it. This might be the last time that *the Viktor Nikiforov* is in the same room as your 2009 poster of *the Viktor Nikiforov*_

_V: I can still sign it for you, if you want._

_Pillow appears in camera and hits Viktor in the face._

 

_Scene: McDonald’s near the airport. Visible in camera are Viktor, Yuuri and Francesca._

_V: I think Yakov would have a heart attack if he knew the kinds of things I’ve been eating in America._

_Y: Shhh. McDonald’s breakfast is sacred. You’re about to fly. You’re allowed to indulge._

_V: I don’t think that’s how it works._

_Y: Pretty sure you’re wrong, but whatever. If you don’t want your McGriddle, I will take it._

_F: No, you won’t. Eat your salad._

_Yuuri stabs at a bowl of salad, takes a bite._

_Y: I can’t believe you made me get a salad for breakfast. Ciao-Ciao isn’t even here._

_F: He’ll be so proud of your healthy decisions, Yuuri._

 

_Scene: The backseat of Francesca’s car. Phichit holds the camera so that he, Yuuri and Viktor are all in screen._

_P: So, Viktor—are you ready to go back to Russia?_

_V: I’m ready to see Makkachin._

_Y: You should’ve brought her with you._

_V: It’s not like I had a lot of time to think things through._

_Y: Nope, not even enough time to, you know, text the person you’re coming to see._

_V: I said I was sorry._

_Y: I’m not mad. I was just really worried about you. Oh. You should bring Makkachin to Japan._

_V: You think so?_

_Y: Definitely. Tokyo is kind of crazy, but I bet she’d love Hasetsu._

 

_Scene: At the airport near the baggage drop for American Airlines. Viktor is hugging Francesca, the camera close to their faces._

_V: Thank you so much for everything. I…I didn’t know where else to go._

_F: You made the right choice in getting away, and if they ever hurt you again, you can always come back. You’re one of ours, now. Anything you need, if Tino and I can do it, we will. I know he was upset to miss seeing you off._

_V: Junior Worlds is important. If I’d been thinking more clearly, I would’ve just gone with him there._

_F: And avoided going home that much longer. You’ll be okay, Viktor. Stay safe, baby._

_V: Spasibo._

 

_Scene: Outside of security check. Viktor is hugging Yuuri tightly, neither speak. Phichit zooms in, and it becomes clear that Viktor is crying. When they break the embrace, Yuuri wipes the tears from Viktor’s cheeks, stands on his tiptoes and kisses his forehead._

_Y: It’ll be okay. You don’t have to see them, or get in touch with them, or do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to make amends, and you don’t have to forgive them._

_V: I’m still scared. What if they try to—_

_Y: You have a support system there, and you have one here too. It will be okay. It’s just a couple more weeks until Worlds. Focus on that._

_V: I don’t want to go._

_Yuuri pulls Viktor into another hug._

_Y: I don’t want you to go, either._

 

_Scene: At the gate. Viktor is filming himself on his phone in selfie mode. The image is much shakier than Phichit’s footage. Viktor’s eyes are red and his cheeks are puffy._

_V: So, I’ve just got to my gate, and the flight is delayed. It’s kind of annoying, because I could’ve slept in a little longer or spent more time with Yuuri and Phichit before coming to the airport. I can’t express how thankful I am that everyone here welcomed me so quickly and so warmly. It’s almost unbelievable, they all just adopted me into their groups and families. Except for Chris, and more recently Georgi, I’ve never had friends before. But Yuuri’s friends pulled me in as if I’d always been there. I’ve never felt so accepted and loved. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I go back. I already miss them all so much._

 

_Scene: In the back of Francesca’s car. Yuuri is in the front passenger seat, alone and crying silently._

_P off-screen: It’s just a couple more weeks until we’re all in Tokyo, Yuuri. It’s not like you’re never going to see each other again._

_Y: Shut up, I know that. I’m not worried about that._

_P: What are you worried about?_

_Y: Everything._

 

_Scene: On board the aircraft, in first class. Viktor is filming in selfie mode again. His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep_

_V: We’re getting ready to land in London now. I wish I’d found a route through Geneva with a long layover. Then I could’ve seen Chris before going back. Yakov would’ve been so mad at me, though. I need to do better by Yakov. He really doesn’t deserve my drama. I can’t wait to see Makkachin. I miss her so much. These past several years when I thought I had no one I could trust, she’s the one thing that’s kept me going. I should’ve brought her with me to Detroit, but then I guess I never would have left at all._

 

_Scene: Different aircraft, different first class. Viktor has a coffee in his hand and is still filming in selfie mode._

_V: This is the point where you really just want to get there. I feel like I’ve been traveling for a thousand years. It’s only been several hours, but they were the longest ones I think I’ve ever lived through. Oh, except maybe the night I met Yuuri. That was a long night. I’m so glad we’re both alive._

 

_Scene: Viktor eating airline food in his first-class seat._

_V: I think I’m starting to understand the McDonald’s pre-flight routine. This is also way outside of my training diet, but at least the McDonald’s tasted good. I’m not going to lie, I’m very nervous about going home. At least this food’s not going to upset my stomach, I hope._

 

_Scene: St. Petersburg airport, international arrivals before security. Viktor is filming in selfie mode._

_V: Almost there. Customs should be just ahead and around this corner. It’s very surreal to be back. It’s nice to see everything labeled in Cyrillic instead of just the Roman alphabet. I’m going to take the metro from here back to my neighborhood, and tomorrow—Makkachin!_

 

_Scene: St. Petersburg airport, international arrivals after security. Makkachin is in view of the camera, as well as the arrivals door. Viktor appears, and Makkachin starts barking. When Viktor gets close enough, the dog runs to him, a pink leash trailing behind her. The camera gets closer to the man hugging the dog, and the spoken language switches to Russian. English subtitles appear on screen._

_G off screen: Welcome back, Viktor. We came to pick you up._

_V: I could have taken the metro, you didn’t have to go out of your way._

_G: You’ve been asking me for pictures of Makkachin five times daily for the past week. I thought it would be cruel to keep you apart any longer than necessary._

_Makkachin begins licking Viktor’s face frantically. Viktor laughs and tries to wipe the slobber off with his sleeves._

_V: Still, you really didn’t have to make a fuss._

_G: Of course I did. You chose to fly on the first day of Junior Worlds. Yuri is still mad that he couldn’t be here to pick you up in person, and Yakov spent the whole day he got your itinerary walking around muttering about how you’re the reason he’s bald._

_V: Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking…_

_G: The only person who’s mad is Plisetsky, and it’s just because he’s jealous. Come on, let’s get you home._

 

_Scene: Inside Viktor’s apartment. The scene starts when Viktor opens the apartment door and turns on the lights, causing everyone inside to scream “Surprise.” There is a banner reading “Welcome Home Vitya!” in Cyrillic, and Mila, the rest of Yakov’s senior skaters and Lilia Baranovskaya are all crowded into the living room area._

_V: Tadaima._

_Others: Surprise!_

_V: What is all this?_

_L: Welcome home, Vitya. I hope you behaved yourself in a manner befitting your tutelage while abroad._

_V: Of course, Madame. I wouldn’t let you down._

_M: So? How does it feel to be back?_

_V: I don’t know yet, but I think…it’ll be okay…_

End of video}

 

 

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**Angie Santangelo** 9 hours ago I’m not crying, you’re crying.

        View all 129 replies

        **La Vie en Rose** 9 hours ago Angie Santangelo you chopping onions or is it just me?

        **Ohmygod Shoes** 7 hours ago Angie Santangelo but for real, though. I think I cried more watching this than I did when my grandfather died. I know, I’m fucked up. But still…

 

**Ana en Amberes** 8 hours ago ¡¡¡Que emoción!!! Adoro los dos, y estoy llorando por ellos q se tienen q partir!! Aaaah me muerooo, pero en serio. Pobrecitos los dos. Recuerdo cuando vine a Belgica la primera vez y dejé un novio, y fue lo mas dificil q hice en mi vida. Bueno, ya corté todo con ese chico, pero en el momento, pensé q iba morir. Viktor, Yuuri-kun, ¡GANBATTE!

        View all 157 replies

        **la argentinidad al palo** 7 hours ago Ana en Amberes yo no me imagino como seria vivir lejos de mi novia. hace 19 años que somos vecinos. Es tan triste k Viktor y Yuuri no se pueden quedar juntos hasta el campeonato mundial. tmb toy llorandoo

        **< 3 Arjona <3 <3 **7 hours ago Ana en Amberes yo tengo fé que los dos van a estar bien dsp de estar separados. Pues, como dice Yuuri, “it’s only a couple of weeks.” Van a reunirse en Tokio y van a estar bien. Espero que sea así. Tengo fé.

 

**dirty_legolas** 9 hours ago There is so much in this video to unpack. Especially after the last video he did and all that money he donated, most people have been pretty firm believers in the “Viktor’s Abusive Family” theory, but I’d like to say this is solid proof of that. Viktor had an encounter with his relatives, then literally fled the country because he was so scared of them. That’s some pretty intense reaction, but depending on what went down and on what he’d experienced growing up, it makes sense. Now that he has to go back, he seems downright terrified. Also, I think this is almost as solid proof for the Viktuuri shippers. I mean. Did you see that forehead kiss?

        View all 392 replies

        **Viktuuri is my Lyfeee** 8 hours ago dirty_legolas WHAT DO YOU MEAN “ALMOST”??!?!?!! THIS IS 1000% SOLID DIAMOND DEFINITIVE PROOF!!!!! It’s not just the forehead kiss (but that’s really important too!!!)!! Did you even see the way they lean all over each other? How they’re constantly in each other’s spaces? How they’re CLEARLY AND OBVIOUSLY IN LOVE??!?!?!?!? THIS IS CANON, PEOPLE!!! CANON!!!!

                    **I’ll Dungeon Your Dragons** 7 hours ago Viktuuri is my Lyfeee holy fucking shit calm the fuck down. dirty_legolas was clearly supporting you insane shippers with that comment, not deriding you assholes or mocking you, even though that’s probably what he should’ve done. Seriously, fuck you. They’re real fucking people, not fucking anime characters. You can’t just ship them and label them canon like they’re not even real. If you and all the crazy ass Viktuuri shippers even gave a fuck about them as people, then you’d clearly know that all the shipping wars on the internet are DANGEROUS for Viktor because of Russia being so fucking awful. Fuck you and your fucking ship. If they weren’t real people whose lives don’t need your rude-ass speculation, then I’d say I hope your ship fucking burns and sinks into the Black Sea

        **Asuna is more badass than Kirito** 7 hours ago dirty_legolas Viktor is so brave to be going back into a situation where he knows there’s the possibility to be hurt. I know he kind of has to, but it’s still so impressive. If I ran away from home to literally another country, I would never go back. Ever.

  
  


 

 

 

 

 

**March 16, 2016, Evening – Budapest, Hungary**

Yuri had done it. He’d won Junior Worlds without any quads, and now Viktor owed him choreography. Viktor also owed him birthday wishes, and birthday presents, and he needed help getting his cat to the vet, and he didn’t understand math, and he was still pissed. Viktor owed him an apology, didn’t he? Took off without saying anything. If it hadn’t been the middle of the season, Yuri would have followed him and made him go back to Russia, and stop fooling around with that idiot from Japan.

Yuri wasn’t jealous of the older Yuuri. The older Yuuri was cool enough whenever Viktor wasn’t around. He wasn’t jealous at all. He was pissed at having been left behind, again. Forgotten about, again. He didn’t care; he’d won Junior Worlds. He’d won it without any quads. Viktor would choreograph his senior debut, and Yuri would beat him at his own game.

He turned down a hallway in the sports complex and realized he wasn’t sure where he was. “Fuck this,” he muttered to himself and kicked the wall.

“Um, this is the way to the girls’ locker room,” someone’s voice, he didn’t recognize it. He looked up. The girl was in fourth after the ladies’ short program. American. She looked familiar.

“Oi, you’re that Piggy’s rinkmate.”

“Um, who?”

“Katsuki. You’re his rinkmate.”

She nodded. “What about him?”

“Make sure he doesn’t fucking kill himself, because I don’t want to have to deal with mopey Viktor when I’m supposed to be preparing for my senior debut.”

“Isn’t Viktor a little mopey all the time? I don’t think he even _likes_ skating.”

“Yeah, well you’d be fucking mopey too if you had to deal with half the shit he goes through. Just make sure Katsuki doesn’t go off the rails before Viktor gets out for good, okay? I need him to choreograph my senior debut.” Yuri turned away from the girl, walked back in the direction from which he’d come before.

 

_To Feltsman, Yakov:_

_I have no idea where I am_

 

_To Nikiforov, Viktor:_

_I won_

 

_From Nikiforov, Viktor:_

_CONGRATULATIONS I WAS WATCHING WITH MAKKACHIN_

_You did so well!_

_Beat them all without quads, too!_

_I’m impressed :)_

 

Eventually Yuri found his way back to the main lobby of the sports complex, where he was instantly swarmed by reporters. He ignored them, tried to look around them, but he couldn’t see. “Where is Yakov?” he shouted, his voice rising above the sounds of the reporters.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned and saw the other Yuuri’s coach. “I’ll help you find him, come on,” the Italian man said. He led Yuri away from the reporters.

“Your skater is a jerk,” Yuri said.

Celestino sighed. “What did she do?”

Yuri scoffed, pulled out his phone and checked Instagram. He liked a picture Viktor had posted of himself and Makkachin, a glimpse of Yuri’s FS costume visible on a television screen. “All I said was that she should make sure Katsuki doesn’t off himself because Viktor would take it like shit, and she said, ‘Viktor doesn’t even like skating.’ Like she even knows anything about him. Five weeks isn’t the same as five years as a rinkmate. Viktor loves skating. She doesn’t fucking know anything.”

The Italian coach hummed. “It’s not anyone else’s job but Viktor’s to open up when he wants to, but I understand why you feel defensive. I know Viktor thinks of you as a little brother. I’m sure you must feel the same.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Was…was he okay? In Detroit?”

“I think he made a lot of progress,” Celestino said. “But he’ll need support if he wants to keep going strong. He’s a brave kid, and I think, so are you.”

“Viktor’s not a kid, he’s an old man. And next season is my senior debut.”

Celestino smiled, laughed, and Yuri could almost feel the paternal affection; it made his skin crawl. “It’s okay to be a kid for as long as you want, you know. Chessie says I’m a big kid sometimes, and I’m forty-three. Oh, look—we found your coach.”

Yuri crossed his arms as they drew closer to Yakov. While the two coaches shook hands, he rolled his eyes. “You didn’t answer my text,” he said.

Yakov pulled an older flip phone from his pocket. “Oh, I just got this. Celestino, did you see their last video?”

“I saw it,” Yuri said.

Celestino nodded, and Yuri wanted to kick them both. It was his day, his competition, his world championship, and they were talking about Viktor. He’d show them. Viktor would choreograph for his senior debut, and then he’d destroy Viktor’s world records. Absolutely destroy them. He’d make a new name for Russian figure skating, and he’d knock Viktor off the top of the podium—

“I just hope he doesn’t do anything rash until he makes the announcement,” Yakov was saying. “He needs to retire first, come out second, otherwise the FFKK might bar him from skating at World Team Trophy.”

“Do you really think they would ban him from competing in his last competition?”

“I think that the minute Vitya says publicly that he’s in a relationship with Katsuki, the FFKK will be the first to try to get rid of him.”

“I hope things go better for them in Japan,” Celestino said. “I know that they’d have the most access to the care they need in the States, and their rights are most protected stateside, too, but if Yuuri wants to go back to Hasetsu…and it’s an election year in the States. We don’t know what will happen in the next presidency, especially if that orange idiot takes control.”

“It seems he will, from what we see,” Yakov said.

“Wait,” Yuri said. “Is Viktor retiring?” Yakov and Celestino both looked at Yuri, but neither answered him. “Well? Is he? He owes me choreography. He better deliver on that. We made a deal.”

“You might have to go to Japan to get it,” Celestino said softly. “I don’t think he’s planning on returning after he leaves for Worlds.”

Perfect. Just when Yuri was ready to move up to the senior division, just when he was ready to prove that he could and would be the best figure skater in Russian history—no, world history—that idiot has to go and retire. And move to Japan. “Don’t think I won’t,” Yuri said, voice a low growl. “He made a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, we're back!! Before you ask, FALL OUT BOY CONCERT WAS EVERYTHING AND THEN SOME--BEST CONCERT EVER I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH, and it fully deserves another three paragraphs of nonstop all-caps ranting. I needed to get out of Massachusetts for a few days in a pretty desperate way, and my high school friends (even the ones I haven't seen in years) still know me better than anyone else. My one friend observed that, even though we're all very different people with widely different interests, we became and stayed friends because we know how to ask each other the right questions. Basically, I had a great time and was able to mentally/emotionally reset in a lot of ways. I feel...fortified?
> 
> In other news: today is my cat's birthday!! She is now a solid one year old!!! My other cat back home in Pennsylvania also turns 23 this month! She is an old, old lady! Also, my birthday is coming up! It's the 20th, and I almost forgot about it because I was so distracted by my cat's birthday coming first.
> 
> Also, after a ridiculous and illegal set of events, I *finally* got paid. I went to Hot Topic and bought the YOI plush throw blanket. My cat keeps trying to bite Viktor's face.


	32. Chapter 32

**March 17, 2016, Late Morning – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor spun into his ending position, arms wrapped around his chest, the sounds of his free skate music echoing in his ears. He rested for a few seconds, pushed himself into a couple of laps around the ice, returned to the center and started again. He pushed through the first variation on the routine, practicing a different series of jumps in the second half. When his arms wrapped into that familiar position again, he paused only long enough to keep his head from spinning before he began again, this time running through the second variation on the routine.

Viktor pushed, and he pushed, and he pushed. Yakov would be back tomorrow, and he had to be flawless for Yakov’s return. All that time in Detroit, he had to prove it had been worth it. Yakov understood why he’d gone, on an emotional level, but now he could prove that the decision was good for his skating as well. He pushed himself into another run-through of his free skate, marked the jumps. He did it again, still marking the jumps. He took a ten-minute break, stretched his legs, drank some water.

Back on the ice, he worked his short program. He ran it with jumps, he ran the variations, he marked the jumps. He ran it again and again. By the time he stopped, he was soaked in sweat and heaving for breath.

“Viktor,” Mila slid up next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should take a break, don’t you think?”

“Almost,” Viktor said. “I’ll go through it one more time.”

Georgi joined them on the center of the ice. “Viktor, it’s almost lunch time. Let’s all go get something to eat.”

“Just one more time.”

“It’s already flawless,” Georgi said. “You’re going to burn out for the day if you don’t take a break.”

Viktor looked from Georgi to Mila, then noticed that he was cold. Now that he wasn’t moving, the sweat and the chilled air were combining to cool him down, quickly. “Let me take a quick shower first, okay?”

He walked on his guards to the locker room, removed his skates. He didn’t place them in his locker. On his first day back at the rink, he’d opened his locker, and a cascade of cheap dildos had fallen out. He could still feel the embarrassment burning in his cheeks, but he’d been alone in the locker room at the time and no one had seen his reaction. He threw them out, and if he kept one that reminded him of Yuuri, he wasn’t going to tell.

Adults had done that, he was certain. Not Georgi, not Yuri or the other juniors, but adults—the pairs skater, Vasiliev? The ice dancer? The hockey team that shared a locker room but used different ice? Yakov couldn’t have known, otherwise someone, or a group of someones, would have been banned from the sports complex. Yakov was final law in this place, and the other ice sports deferred to him. It was immature and hostile, and Viktor couldn’t help but grin at the thought of some homophobic hockey player purchasing a dozen plastic cocks.

He showered quickly, washing down the sweat and toweling dry before he pulled on clean clothes, taken straight from his gym bag. He stowed his dirty things, then grabbed the bag by its straps. He squared his shoulders, threw his head back, left the locker room. No one was there to see him, but he would be proud of himself anyway. He would prove himself anyway. He had been the star of Russian athletics for long enough that shallow bullying wouldn’t get to him.

He couldn’t let shallow bullying get to him now.

Outside of the locker room, he found Georgi and Mila waiting for him by the main door.

“You’re bringing your stuff?” Mila asked.

“Left the key to my locker at home,” he said with a shrug. Georgi gave him a side glance, but didn’t mention that Viktor had a combination lock. He hadn’t told Georgi about the dildos, hadn’t told anyone but Yuuri. Even telling Yuuri was hard, but he knew he was supposed to tell someone. He didn’t know if he could tell Yakov.

“You can stash it in mine,” Georgi said. “If you want.”

“That’s alright,” Viktor said, swallowing through a plastic smile. Georgi was a safe person to talk to, and he liked Mila, but he didn’t want to linger on the topic.

Georgi shrugged, and Viktor followed him and Mila to a small restaurant three blocks away from the rink. All of the skaters were known to the staff, and the hostess on duty greeted them each by name. She sat them at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, near the kitchen.

The waitress took their order, and within minutes, he could hear the kitchen staff working on cooking it. Viktor shuddered when their voices carried, riding under the sound of popping oil and cooking meat.

“It’s just unnatural.”

“And so many kids look up to him.”

“I used to like him, now I’m not sure he can be trusted.”

“Definitely not around my son. All of those gays are just secretly pedophiles.”

“What are you doing?”

“What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

Viktor looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen. He didn’t know who was working, didn’t know what they were doing to his food, but he lost his appetite. Based on their faces, the other two hadn’t heard the conversation over their own discussion. He sighed, rested his chin on his palm, elbow braced on the tabletop. “One more week until we leave for Worlds, right, Georgi?”

“Yeah, just one.”

“Viktor, did you even hear what I was saying?” Mila asked. “It was so hilarious, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Viktor tried to perk up, smiled. “Sorry, I was spacing out a little. What happened?”

“Yesterday, I went to throw out this bag of trash that had been building up in my locker, and when I went to the dumpster behind the rink, I found a dozen fake penises, just thrown in there. Like, who does that?”

“Does what?”

“Tosses fake penises in a public dumpster. And why did they have so many? It was just, so funny. I’d never seen a fake penis before, and now I’ve seen one for each month of the year.”

Viktor’s face flushed red, and Mila stopped laughing. “Oh,” he said, “that’s pretty different, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she said, subdued. “I wonder who put them there.”

Then Viktor was able to crack a grin. Voice low enough that only the table could hear him, he said, “Can you imagine any of the hockey players buying a dozen dildos?”

Mila and Georgi both laughed, but now they knew. Even without the details, they knew that Viktor was being harassed at the rink. At the very least, he hadn’t heard a word from any of his relatives since the night Boris had called him while he was in Detroit. It was a small blessing, but it still seemed impossible that nothing more would happen between them. Viktor was half afraid Yevgraf or Irina would show up at the rink, but they’d yet to appear.

When the food arrived, he didn’t eat it, just moved it around his plate in a way that made it look eaten. He listened with half his attention to Mila and Georgi, paid the bill for all three when it came. He even debated going so far as to leave a tip—he’d just come from America, after all, and tipping had been the norm—but he wasn’t sure if overdoing it with kindness would solve his problem. He still didn’t know what, if anything, had even been done to his food. He imagined something like spit or piss. It would be easy enough to hide.

He checked the time, texted Yuuri.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Good morning! _

_ I love you! _

 

Yuuri should still be asleep, but he’d be waking up eventually. “Let’s take a picture for Instagram,” Viktor said. He pulled in closer to Georgi, and Mila leaned over the table so that they were all in frame. Viktor snapped the shot, opened the app and selected a filter. Reyes for today; kings in Spanish. He wouldn’t let this get him down.

When they left the restaurant, Viktor tossed his gym bag over his shoulder. “I think I’m going to head home for a bit,” he said. “Spend some time with Makka, pack some things.”

“Packing for Worlds already?” Mila asked. “Are you even done unpacking?”

“Oh, about that,” Viktor said, “I’m staying in Japan after the season ends, so I need to pack for a longer trip.”

Mila’s eyes popped. “But you owe me a triple axel.”

“I know. Come see me in Hasetsu in May; we’ll work on it there.” Viktor smiled, but he was sad. He’d wanted to help her develop the jump, but even just being back for a few days, he knew he couldn’t keep living here. Especially not now, not when everyone suddenly believed the hearsay. He straightened his shoulders. They should believe it. He was gay, he was definitely gay. He couldn’t change that. Mila nodded. He didn’t know if she would take him seriously and come learn the jump, but the offer was there.

Georgi clapped Viktor’s shoulder.  “I’ll come help you pack.”

“It’s…I’m okay; if you want to get back to practicing, you should.”

“No,” Georgi shook his head. “I think it’s more important right now that I come help you. Mila, will you be okay on your own at the rink?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Viktor, are you okay? You hardly touched your food.”

“I’m fine,” Viktor said, too hasty. “Just an upset stomach. I probably overdid it earlier, just like you both said. Don’t worry; I’ll eat something while I pack. Go back to practice.”

Mila hesitated, but took off in the direction of the rink with a final wave goodbye. With Georgi at his side, Viktor began the long walk back to his apartment. Makkachin was there, she needed to go out. He needed to pack. He wouldn’t be here forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 17, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

The first thing Yuuri saw when he tore off his face mask in the morning was the backlight of his phone. He checked, saw the texts from Viktor, replied.

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Hey just woke up _

_ How is today so far? _

 

He locked his phone and stretched in the bed, felt the open space sharp on his side. He rolled into fetal position, clutched a pillow—Viktor’s pillow—to his chest. It was still early; he didn’t have ice time for another three and a half hours. If he were more responsible, he’d get up and work on his thesis for the next two hours. He didn’t have much left to do on this draft, just a check for grammar and spelling and correct APA citations. It hardly felt like he’d written the paper at all, with how many citations cluttered the lines. He winced at a phantom pain in his arm. He had long since grown accustomed to the dull ache that was present in the mornings, or during drops in barometric pressure, so much so that he hardly noticed it. Every once in a while, though, a sharp pain would shoot through his arm, like it was being sliced open again. He shook his arm in the air until the pain stopped, then went back to clutching the pillow. He rolled to his other side.

His phone buzzed, and Yuuri fumbled his hand around the end table blindly until he had his fingers around it. He brought it to his face.

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ Could have been worse, I suppose _

_ The restaurant kitchen messed with my food _

_ Nobody knows, but I heard the cooks talking about it _

_ Oh, and you remember the dildos? _

_ Mila found them in the dumpster and thought it was hilarious. _

_ I can’t wait to get out of here _

 

_ To Vitya <3: _

_ Please tell me you didn’t eat something tainted _

 

_ From Vitya <3: _

_ No, but now Georgi’s convinced I’m at risk _

_ Because not eating is one of my warning signs _

_ But what was I supposed to do? _

_ I don’t know what to do _

 

Yuuri called Viktor, and when he picked up, Yuuri said, “Hey, you. Tell me more about it.”

“Hi,” Viktor said, voice soft. “I’m out walking Makkachin right now. I’ve been packing, and Georgi is helping.”

“That’s good,” Yuuri said, shifting in bed again so that his legs were stretched. He half-rolled onto his stomach. “I miss you.”

“Me, too,” Viktor said. “Worlds can’t come soon enough. Almost home, then we can talk more easily.”

Yuuri heard the sound of a door closing, muffled greetings in Russian, the ding of an elevator call button. “Who was that?” he asked.

“Just the doorman. He’s a nice guy. Or, he used to be. He’s been cold to me since shortly before Europeans. I…think he might have found out about me around then. He used to ask me all the time when I’d settle down with a nice girl.”

“Tell him I said I’m sorry I’m not a girl,” Yuuri said.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m not, really I’m not. I’m pretty much a stereotypical jock dudebro, except I like dick.”

“Oh? You do?”

“Mmhmm, I do.”

“Me, too. But you’re a lot nicer than a stereotypical jock. And a lot smarter.”

Yuuri stretched in the bed, yawned. “I can’t wait to get you out of there, Vitya. I wish you didn’t have to be there right now. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don’t think so,” Viktor said, “other than just listening.”

“Don’t forget to talk to your people there, too.”

“I know.”

“Tell Georgi about the dildos. And about the food in the restaurant.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Oh, you’re back in your apartment now.”

“How did you know?”

“You said you loved me, not just ‘me, too.’ Go talk to your friend. I’m going to go shower I guess.”

“I wish I was there. I miss showering with you.”

“Wait until you try the onsen. But no sex in the onsen, okay?”

“What? Why?”

“Vitya, they’re  _ public _ baths. Tatsuya-ojisan bathes in the onsen. It’s not sexy. Also, I mean, our family’s onsen is our family’s, so it won’t be a problem, but if we were to go to one in Tokyo, it might be hard to find a place that allows same-sex couples. Oh, but it should be easier to find love hotels that do.”

“Yuuri, what is a love hotel?”

“Hmm. I guess you’ll find out next week. Now I’m going to go shower.”

“Still wish I was with you.”

“Just imagine me jerking off and screaming your name and waking up Phichit and the hamsters, and it’ll be like you never left at all. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Bye.” Yuuri ended the call, lay in bed for another ten minutes scrolling through Instagram. Then he went back into his archive of saved photos of Viktor, some of which were lewds that had been taken and sent before Viktor had come to Detroit, but most of which were just soft pictures of Viktor smiling, Viktor laughing, Viktor kissing his hand. It was those pictures that Yuuri focused on, the gentle grins and light turning up of those lips. Viktor’s lips. Yuuri missed Viktor’s lips.

He masturbated in bed, careful to catch his cum in a sock and save his sheets from another premature washing. He showered. He masturbated in the shower, shot the spunk toward the drain but still had to wipe some off of the wall. He got dressed, made a cup of tea. He took off his pants and dug the sock out from where he’d tossed it in the hamper before and masturbated again. He cleaned himself. He still had over an hour before he had to be at the rink. He began stretching, working all of his muscles slowly. He looked through his cache of private photos, Viktor and him. Alone in this room. He felt his dick twitch, but he was bored with masturbating. He was bored without Viktor.

He left for the rink early, arrived with twenty minutes to spare. He stretched again, skated school figures around the younger skaters who were practicing under the watchful eye of the rink manager. He thought about how the kids had pestered Viktor, how upset Viktor had been. He hated that Viktor was being harassed in St. Petersburg, hated that he was helpless to stop it. He kept skating school figures, tuned out the voices of the teenagers around him. He skated school figures, wished for the ghost of Viktor skating these same patterns alongside him. He skated school figures, kept skating them until Phichit appeared in front of him clapping his hands.

“Earth to Yuuri, hello,” Phichit was saying. Yuuri came to a stop and tried to concentrate on Phichit’s voice. “How long have you been on the ice?”

“Um, I…not that long. The juniors were still practicing, so I just started…aren’t you here early?”

“Yuuri, it’s four in the afternoon. I have ice time, started half an hour ago. I’m  _ late _ .”

“Shit,” Yuuri said. He scuffed the ice with his blade. “I dissociated on the ice again, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Phichit said. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

Yuuri nodded, and the fatigue of skating figures for five and a half hours nonstop hit him all at once. He wobbled on his blades, followed Phichit’s lead. Off the ice, Phichit shoved an energy bar in his hands, and Yuuri ate it. He drank an orange Gatorade. He stowed his things in his locker, the locker he’d shared with Viktor for weeks now. It seemed empty in comparison, vacated. Phichit guided him home, one hand on his back the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elphaba says thank you for all the birthday wishes! And by "says thank you" I mean that she "chased the laser pointer and ate a lot of treats while her mom sang happy birthday all day."
> 
> Today a stranger told me I had "some pretty-ass hair," and I didn't feel the immediate need to declare myself a lesbian, which, what?
> 
> I am not a lesbian. I am #stillbisexual


	33. Chapter 33

**March 18, 2016, Night – St. Petersburg, Russia**

 

Viktor ran his fingers through Makkachin’s fur, curled around her warm body nestled on his too-large bed. Worlds would begin in ten days; they would travel in seven. Seven more days until he was on his way. Makkachin twitched in her sleep, began kicking at the air. She was chasing something in her dream, chasing what, Viktor would never be sure. He clung tighter to Makkachin, and the dog stilled.

He supposed he should eat something, so he got up and went to the kitchen. In the fridge, he found yesterday’s leftovers from the food he’d ordered with Georgi. He pulled them out, popped the lid off of the container, and stuck the plastic bottom in the microwave. Once heated, the leftovers became nondescript, bland—Viktor couldn’t even remember what they had ordered, or what it had tasted like the day before. He ate the food.

Georgi had called in the order. Georgi had picked the place to order from, and it wasn’t one of Viktor’s regular spots.  Viktor was never one to cook much; he was never one to eat much, so grocery shopping had always seemed like an unnecessary chore. When he was first on his own, he couldn’t balance his budget well enough to manage healthy and regular grocery runs, and his rise to stardom and financial success had been so quick that at seventeen, all Viktor had known was that he would never have to go hungry again. The ability to eat, and to eat well, never fully settled into his mind, though. Or perhaps it had never settled into his stomach. Cooking took time, grocery shopping took money. Cooking for one was just as costly as ordering in from inexpensive places, and Viktor became a loyal patron of several small, local food spots that offered better-tasting options than the housekeepers at his father’s house had ever done. He relied on them, including the place by the rink, to make sure he stayed on the right side of starvation.

If he couldn’t trust the restaurants and delivery places, then he wouldn’t eat.

Georgi had ordered for him, and told him to feel free to use his name to call and order from this new place again. He would have to pay in cash; hopefully the delivery people didn’t recognize him. He could understand the ire of strangers, but people he’d known for years suddenly growing cold or outright ignoring him—everything felt wrong.  _ He _ felt wrong. He’d been aware of it before, how this unchangeable fact about him was perceived in the public, but he hadn’t felt so acutely  _ wrong _ for existing in years.

He couldn’t help but think of Venus Xtravaganza, strangled to death in a hotel and found by strangers. All she had wanted was to settle down with a husband and live her life. All she had wanted was to live.

He checked the time. It was afternoon in Detroit. He could call Yuuri, but he didn’t want to overburden him, and he wasn’t sure what time his appointment was; Yuuri was probably talking with his therapist right now. It would just be for seven more days. Seven more days until he could leave everything behind. He had another number in his phone, though, for the counseling and psychiatry office in Detroit.

He called the number, dialed the extension for Sharon, received her away message. After a tone, he said, “Hi, Sharon, it’s Viktor Nikiforov. I’m having some trouble with things in St. Petersburg. I know I’m not in the country, so it’d be difficult to do a phone session or something like that, but if you have any time in the next couple of days, could you please let me know? Any time at all. I’d obviously be willing to pay for the international call, or something like Skype works for me if it would work for you. I…I’m being harassed, and I don’t feel comfortable talking about it with anyone else. So, um, if you could please call me back, I would appreciate it very much. Thank you.” He ended the call, hoped that she’d be able to help him.

He fell back into bed, played an endless running game on his phone for a while. When he finally beat the high score that Yuuri had set on it, he took a screenshot and closed out of the app. He texted Yuuri.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ {screenshot} _

_ You said I couldn’t do it _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Bitch fight me. I will beat that score _

_ You. Me. Tokyo. _

_ Temple Run Rematch. _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Oh? What’s your high score on your phone? _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ {screenshot} _

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Fuck. _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ That is a great idea. I wish you were here _

_ {img} _

 

Viktor smiled at the selfie, quickly saved it into his folder of Yuuri images. He wasn’t in the mood right now, but later tonight, when he felt even more alone, he’d go back to savor the details. He replied with a line of heart-eyes emojis, then locked his phone. He pulled a pillow to his chest and hugged it.

Earlier that day, he’d gotten to the rink at the same time as Yuri Plisetsky. When he opened his locker, he’d found a small pile of used condoms. He would’ve just thrown them out, but Yuri had been with him, and the teenager immediately reported it to Yakov. Viktor had skated his practice and then some, then spent half an hour in an impromptu mandatory seminar for all skaters on harassment. When none of the other skaters flinched, Viktor knew that this was coming either from the other ice sports or the rink staff. He didn’t care where it was coming from; he wanted it to stop.

On the kitchen counter, there was a padlock with a key waiting to be taken in the next day. Viktor didn’t care as much about the dildos or even the condoms, but not being able to keep his things in his locker was driving him crazy. He couldn’t leave his skates there, not even for a two-hour choreography practice in a dance room.

Blades could be bent, or coated in clear nail polish. Anything could hide inside the toe of the boot.

Was he paranoid for thinking that someone would go so far as to tamper with his skates? A dildo here, an “accidental” collision that threw his balance there—those were frustrating and belittling, but they wouldn’t harm him physically. If it stayed at this level, he could handle it. This was nothing compared to his childhood. It was draining and vexing, but it was nothing.

Viktor remembered a time after his mother died, before he’d become Russia’s next big rising star—in private school at thirteen, he was growing out his hair to complement his coming season’s costumes better. He’d found nasty notes in his desk at the beginning of the day, dirt and trash in his coat pockets at the end of the day. Kids would bump into him in the hall, pretend it was an accident and blame the collisions on him. It didn’t last long, because Viktor had nearly died before transferring to that school, and nothing broke his already-perfect smile.

The one time he’d come close to losing it, the kid behind him had spent all day embedding small bits of chewing gum in his hair. Viktor hadn’t even noticed it until he’d gone to the rink and Tonya had pointed it out to him. She sat with him in Yakov’s office, using her bottle of skin lotion and a fine-toothed comb to try and loosen the gum from his hair.

He hadn’t cried then, though he almost reached that point. If he hadn’t cried then, he wouldn’t cave now. After all, what was any of this compared to before? Compared to that still-echoing sound of the gun. This was nothing, certainly nothing he couldn’t survive.

Viktor sighed and stretched in bed. He unlocked his phone.

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_ What do you think happens when you die? _

 

_ From Lev Cohen: _

_ Hey, Viktor, good to hear from you _

_ We all miss you here in Detroit _

_ I believe there’s an afterlife, but I don’t think too much about it _

_ I just try to focus on my current life right now and hope that whatever comes turns out to be good. _

_ Why? _

_ Are you okay? _

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_ No, not really _

_ I was just thinking about things again _

_ When my mother died _

_ It’s funny, my father’s the one who passed away recently _

_ But when I think “dead parent” it’s always my mother _

 

_ From Lev Cohen: _

_ I’m really sorry for your losses, Viktor _

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_ Don’t be; they were both very abusive _

_ If it were up to them, I would be dead. _

 

_ From Lev Cohen: _

_ If you want to talk about it, I’m available. _

_ Or about anything. _

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_ Thank you _

_ I’m…trying to be ready, but I’m not quite there yet. _

 

_ From Lev Cohen: _

_ Of course; you’ve been through some trauma, it’s natural. _

_ Whenever you feel comfortable, I will listen. _

_ Hey, while I’ve got you _

_ Ketty has been working on the thing for Yuuri, and she’s almost done, but Yuuri doesn’t know that she’s been doing this, so it’s supposed to be a surprise, but we’re planning on giving it to him by Pride Day in April, but now he’s been talking about moving back to Japan after Worlds, and I don’t know if he’ll be here on Pride Day, so I was wondering if I could hear more concrete details from you, since I think you can keep a small secret about the thing _

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_ One. What is this thing? _

_ Two. Yes, we are moving to Hasetsu to train for next season _

_ Three. I will make sure we are in Detroit for Pride Day _

 

_ From Lev Cohen: _

_ So, you know how Ketty wrote that demo? _

_ She’s been redoing it. _

 

_ To Lev Cohen: _

_!!!!! _

_ I CAN’T WAIT TO HEAR IT!!!!! _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 18, 2016, Late Afternoon – Windsor, Canada**

 

Yuuri felt like he’d been sitting in the car for seven hours, but he knew it had only been one and a half, though the end of the wait was nowhere in sight. He was sweaty, the seatbelt was chafing along his neck, and he kept pulling it away from his body in hopes that it would settle across his chest in a more comfortable manner. It never did, but he was too afraid of suddenly lurching forward in line and getting scolded by a border patrol agent. “What the fuck is taking so fucking long today.”

“You’re just lucky that your appointments are usually early enough in the afternoon that we don’t hit this traffic,” Ketty said.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said, eyes focused out the window. “It’s not my fault my appointment got put into a later time slot than normal. This was my last session before Worlds. It’s not like I could cancel it.”

“You cancelled last week’s.”

“I had a date.”

“Speaking of, how is Viktor doing?” Ketty asked. The car ahead of her moved ahead at a snail’s pace for three meters, and Ketty followed, the speedometer never quite registering that she’d begun moving forward.

“He’s—oh wait.” Yuuri’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he lifted his hips off of the seat in order to be able to pull it out. “He beat my high score on his phone.”

“Good for him.”

Yuuri lost himself to their conversation quickly, found a perfect moment to send Viktor a lewd photo. He didn’t know how he’d had the foresight, but Yuuri had spent half an hour that morning taking dirty pictures for Viktor. Careful to keep his screen angled away from Ketty, he scrolled through the shots and picked the one he liked the most and sent it.

“You know,” Ketty said, eyes forward and on the line of cars, “I can see the reflection of your phone in the window.”

“Shut up,” Yuuri said, face bright red. “And watch the road, Ketty. Really.”

She sighed, and the line jerked forward another two meters. “How’s your thesis, by the way?”

“Good,” Yuuri said. “I sent the first draft to Dr. Villanueva last night, and after she looks at it, I’ll send it to my advisor. I’ll probably have a lot of edits to make in April, but for right now, I’m done. How’s your stuff going?”

“Well, I keep working on this side project instead of my actual work, so that’s probably not good, but I’ll finish the MFA this spring, too.”

“It’s not fair you get two degrees in the same time it took me to get one.”

“Yeah, but I’m not internationally competitive in anything. And even if I were, it would be music composition, which is what my degrees are in. You’ve pulled triple duty the past five years, Yuuri, and you also had some really shit life experiences the past couple. You’re doing fine.”

“I guess,” Yuuri said.

The conversation dropped. Ketty stretched her back in the driver’s seat, then turned the volume on the radio up. The station she’d chosen was playing soft rock from the seventies, and by the time it was finally their turn, Yuuri was half asleep to the sounds of Cat Stevens and Paul Simon. They passed through without problem, and Ketty drove on to Yuuri’s apartment building. When she pulled up to the curb outside, Yuuri hopped out. “You wanna come hang a while?” he asked.

Ketty shook her head. “I have to go to the studio and get some recording time in, or I would. Tell Viktor I said hi next time you talk to him, okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Yuuri said. “Good luck with your recording.” He closed the car door and with a wave, jogged toward the door of his building.

Inside the apartment, he found himself alone, so he collapsed onto the couch and pulled out his phone. Any minute now, he was going to get up and push a game disc into his PS4, but right now, he was stretched out on the couch, one leg thrown over the back and hooked in place with his ankle. The posture stretched his muscles in an unusual way, and after spending entirely too long in Ketty’s car, his body was grateful for both the relaxation of being horizontal and the strangeness of his position. Any minute, and he would move. He wanted to play the Japanese copy of  _ Tales of Zestiria _ that Mari had sent in the mail, see if it was noticeably different than the version he’d gotten on Steam. Any minute now, he would start.

He woke to Phichit standing above him, shaking his shoulder gently. “Yuuri, hey, wake up,” his roommate was saying.

Yuuri stretched and groaned before pushing himself upright. His foot had fallen asleep and was tingling with interrupted blood flow. He shook it, put a little weight on it, then shook it again. “What time is it?”

“Seven twenty-four. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. He stretched his arms behind his back and stood up from the couch. “Who’s turn is it for dinner?”

“I think it’s China Star’s.”

In the kitchen, Yuuri drank a glass of water. He returned to the living room, placed their usual order from the restaurant, finally broke into  _ Tales of Zestiria _ . When the food came, Phichit answered the door and carried in the brown paper bag. They ate on the couch while Yuuri played the game and Phichit tried to yell suggestions at Yuuri.

At ten, Phichit packed up the leftovers and stuffed them in the fridge. “I miss your boyfriend,” he said. “It’s really quiet without your lovey-dovey kissy faces and really loud sex when you think I’m asleep.”

“Sorry about that,” Yuuri said. He didn’t flinch, but his cheeks were flushing red. “In all fairness, you should be asleep at two in the morning.”

“So should you.” Phichit flopped onto the couch next to Yuuri, sprawled over the empty seat, stuck a foot near Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri smacked his foot away with his elbow, not once taking his eyes off of the screen or his hands off of the controller. “Sleep or sex, Phichit. If you could choose, what would you choose?”

“Probably sleep, if I’m being honest. And that’s not just because I’m a teenaged virgin who doesn’t know any better—”

“I never said—”

“It’s because getting enough sleep is the only thing that keeps my skin clear. I don’t want to have to photoshop zits out of my selfies, so I choose sleep.”

Yuuri considered it, head cocked to one side while the idea replayed in his mind. “But I don’t have serious acne, and I don’t sleep.”

“You’re Asian?”

“Is that a real stereotype, or are you making it up? And you’re Asian, too.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a stereotype. And I’m  _ brown _ Asian, but you’re not.”

“Whatever you say, Phichit-kun.”

After a minute of silence, Phichit yawned and stretched. He stood from the couch. “Anyway, I am going to sleep. Night, Yuuri. Don’t stay up too late.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “ _ Hai hai, otousan _ .”

After Phichit disappeared into his room, Yuuri continued playing the game. It had taken him nearly fifty hours to play through the main story the first time around, the last few hours of which had been completed the day before leaving for Trophee Eric Bompard in Paris. He rode that high of finishing the game straight through his short program and beat his personal best at that competition. Now that he was starting the game from scratch on a new copy, he wanted to see if he could play through in less time. He turned the volume down, not wanting to disturb Phichit’s early night.

He passed another three hours on the game, noticed the time and decided he may as well try to get some sleep. He missed Viktor, missed his scent next to him in bed. Even though the mattress was narrow and space was tight, Yuuri had slept much better with Viktor next to him than he did without. Since Viktor had been gone, Yuuri had lain awake in bed for hours each night, both willing himself to sleep and replaying their last goodbye in the airport. He sighed, returned the game disc to its box and turned off the PS4. He texted a quick good morning to Viktor and brushed his teeth.

While he was rinsing his mouth, the backlight on his phone lit up. He looked at the screen, saw an incoming call from a number he didn’t recognize with a foreign country code. A Russian country code. He spat the water and dried his hands as quickly as he could before answering the call.

“ _ Moshi-moshi? _ ”

“Is this Yuuri Katsuki?”

Yuuri felt his heart drop to the bottom of his chest. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could practically see Viktor’s body, lifeless and bloodied in a hate crime murder. He pushed the lid down on the toilet and sat, knees wobbling under his own weight. “This is he; who’s calling?”

“This is Georgi Popovich. Have you been in touch with Viktor in the past couple of hours? He’s late for practice, and he’s not—oh, maybe I was too concerned. He’s— _Viktor_ _chto s toboy sluchilos?_ ” Yuuri heard Viktor’s voice, muffled through the phone. Georgi was speaking again, and while Yuuri could hear the syllables, he couldn’t understand the words. “I’m going to pass the phone to Viktor,” Georgi said to him, and then Viktor was on the line.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice was quiet, tentative.

“Vitya?” Yuuri asked. “Vitya,  _ daijoubu _ ?”

“ _ Da _ ,” Viktor said. “I’m fine. It’s…I don’t think anything’s broken, so I should be fine. I—I’m sorry, Yuuri. I’m sorry.”

“Vitya, what are you apologizing for? What happened to you?” Yuuri’s vision was swirling. He held the phone to his ear with one hand, dug his nails into the skin of his forearm with the other. Crouched forward, breath shallow, Yuuri tried to stabilize himself. Something was wrong. Viktor was hurt, he didn’t know how, but Viktor was hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said. “I lied to them, Yuuri. I lied to them. I’m so sorry, Yuuri. I lied to them. I can’t  _ do _ this.”

“Vitya, please. I—you—you’re not making sense.” Yuuri’s panic levels were rising. He couldn’t breathe.  _ He couldn’t do this _ . Viktor was done. Viktor was leaving him. He couldn’t do this from Russia, so Viktor was leaving him. His nails dug further into his arm, and he was vaguely aware that if he didn’t let go soon, he’d break the skin and draw blood. He didn’t want to draw blood, but he couldn’t break the hold. He couldn’t breathe.

Viktor coughed on the line, a rough heaving sound that sent a painful chill up Yuuri’s spine. “Yuu-tan,” Viktor said. “Yuu-tan. I love you. I’m sorry I lied. I said I wasn’t—they said they would kill me, Yuuri. They said they were going to cut off my penis. I couldn’t…so I lied.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri took a deep breath and cooed into the phone, trying to recapture his composure enough to help Viktor.  _ He might not leave you _ , he dared to hope.  _ He loves you _ . Yuuri loved Viktor; he could put his panic on hold for Viktor, couldn’t he? He took another deep breath, counted to seven. He pried his fingernails from his arm. “Vitya, hey, it’ll be okay. I’m not mad that you lied. You told them you weren’t gay, right? I’m not mad. Hey—I love you. If that’s what it took for you to stay alive, then that’s what it took. Do you want me to come get you?”

“We’re flying in five days.”

“I know. Do you want me to change my flight so I can come get you?”

“I don’t want you to be in danger. It’s—it’s five more days. I…I think I can…Yuuri, I love you. I love you so much.”

Yuuri became aware that Viktor was crying, and his own tears started to fall. Viktor was too upset still, couldn’t say what had happened, but Yuuri knew that it was bad. He knew he shouldn’t have encouraged Viktor to go back to Russia, even if it was just to pack up his apartment and get ready for an international move. He should’ve suggested Viktor hire people at a distance, have Yakov or Georgi ship the items and Makkachin to Hasetsu. When Viktor had first brought up his return to Russia, Yuuri should have begged him not to go. Instead, he’d said with a smile that he’d support Viktor no matter what Viktor decided to do. Now, Viktor was on the far side of the world and in pain, and there was nothing Yuuri could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a post over on my blog about bisexuality, biphobia/bi-erasure, and anxiety in response to a question on what I would want to see in a queer utopia. Please check it out if you have the time! I would really appreciate it, because this post is the first time I've written publicly under my real name about my bisexuality, and it's really important to me.
> 
> https://maggiefelisberto.wordpress.com/2017/11/12/anxiety-high-sexuality-bi/
> 
> In other news, I am catching up to myself here despite taking the break for FOB (I legit just finished chapter 36 last night aaaaahh!!!!), so I hope it doesn't happen, but I might go incognito again in a week or so to try to finish the story. Wish me luck!
> 
> In other other news, I am hopefully going to be making an appearance at Rhode Island Comic Con tomorrow as Wednesday Addams. I am supposed to be meeting up with BluSkates, who (last I checked) was going to be cosplaying Lydia Deetz. If you're there and you see us, come say hi! Just don't tap me on the shoulder from behind me/in my blind spot, because you will scare me ;)


	34. Chapter 34

**March 19, 2016, Late Night – Detroit, United States**

 

{link}

{ **Viral Videos Show Viktor Nikiforov Assaulted on St. Petersburg Street** }

_ Early in the morning on March 18, Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov was walking toward his home rink for practice when he was violently attacked by three masked figures. Several videos of the assault soon surfaced online, including footage taken by one of the assailants. It is clear from the footage that the skater sustained injuries. _

_ This attack, which happened just ten days before the start of this year’s figure skating World Championships, is being treated by the FFKK as an act of sabotage. However, in some of the videos, the assailants are clearly shouting homophobic insults and threats to Nikiforov’s genitalia, causing both Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International to label this attack a hate crime. In a press statement, coach Yakov Feltsman called the assailants “hooligans” and said that, despite topical and internal bruising, a doctor has cleared Nikiforov for competition. Nikiforov has declined to comment and has refused to press charges. _

_ What will this mean for the legendary skater, clearly a favorite for gold in the upcoming World Championships? Could his reign supreme be at an end? _

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri was pissed. He was angry, he was drinking, and he didn’t know what to do. Phichit didn’t know where he was; none of his friends did. He’d disappeared from them earlier in the day, after they’d dragged him out to  _ cheer him up _ . He didn’t need cheering up. He needed a chainsaw and a plane ticket. Violence against violence wasn’t the answer, and his rational mind knew that. His rational mind loved how calm and astute Viktor had been the day he’d been approached by Pres. That kind of retaliation, with the sharpness of words, was what he should aim for. But not right now. Right now, he was pissed.

Three reporters had come up to him in person, asking him to comment on Viktor’s condition. Seven more had called him on the phone.

He hated them all, resented the way they leeched their living off of the lives of others. He hated the  _ lack of privacy _ that Viktor’s life had always entailed, that his own life was becoming. All he wanted was to get to Hasetsu after Worlds and soak in the onsen alone with his lover. All he wanted was to be alone with his lover. He hated the people and forces and ideologies keeping them apart, hated them to the point where the hate was boiling out of his skin.

He took a sip from his fifth old fashioned. Normally, he preferred other drinks with a softer edge—things based on vodka or rum. Today, he needed the whiskey, needed the bitters. He was bitter. His drink should be, too.

This was the dive bar he used to frequent, before he’d quit drinking. He liked the low, blue lighting. Liked the Fall Out Boy on the radio. Liking his drink more with each sip, he felt his body finally start to relax. All of the tension of frustration and rage started to bleed out of his body. He stretched his shoulders, cracked his neck. He finished his drink.

No sooner had he put the empty cup on the bar than another, filled drink appeared before him. He followed the line from the hand on the cup back along the arm. “Pres,” he said. “Go away.”

Pres took the seat next to him. “You look like you need a million drinks, Yuu. I heard about what happened to your boyfriend. I’m really sorry.”

“Fuck you; you don’t care.”

“I do care. Look, I know things were messy between us, but I really think you’ve got the wrong impression of me, and I know that Viktor does, so please. Let’s just have a drink and talk. We don’t even have to talk about before. You can tell me all about your boyfriend, and I won’t even get jealous.” He pushed the drink closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri eyed the full drink, glanced at his empty cup. “What’s in this?”

“It’s just rum and coke.”

Yuuri picked it up and put it down. He pushed it back. “Thanks for the drink, Pres, but I really just want to be alone right now.”

Pres pushed the drink back, but stood up. “Fine, I’ll get out of your hair. Keep the drink. You really do look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said weakly. Pres disappeared into the crowd, and Yuuri sat alone. He stared into the dark, black liquid in the tumbler, dragged his finger around the rim of the glass. He picked it up.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Yuuri!”

Startled, Yuuri spilled some of the drink onto the bar before placing the glass down. He turned, saw Phichit. “Fuck, not you, too,” he said.

Phichit pulled a napkin out of a dispenser and handed it to Yuuri. “How long have you been here?”

“Dunno,” Yuuri said while he dried off his hand. He picked up the glass, now only two-thirds as full as before. “A couple hours, I guess.”

Phichit covered the glass with his hand and pushed it back onto the bar. “How much have you had?”

Yuuri yanked his hand away from Phichit’s. “Not enough.”

“ _ Not enough _ sounds like  _ too much _ to me, Yuuri.”

Phichit was waving down the bartender when Yuuri noticed Pres on the far side of the bar. He had two drinks in hand, and then—did Yuuri just see that? He must have imagined it. He thought he’d seen…he didn’t hear Phichit confirm with the bartender that yes, Yuuri had had more to drink than he needed but not enough to be cut off. He didn’t feel Phichit tug on his arm, or beg him to come home. His eyes were locked on Pres and his two drinks.

“Phi, be quiet a minute,” Yuuri said. Phichit stopped tugging, looked where Yuuri was looking. The two followed Pres with their eyes, saw him give one of the glasses—the one that Yuuri could have sworn—to…was that Tyler? The freshman? Tyler was too young to be drinking. Not that Yuuri had ever stopped Phichit, but Phichit’s fake ID was professional quality. Tyler didn’t seem like the kind of kid who knew how to buy a fake ID. Pres was supplying Tyler with alcohol, but when hadn’t Yuuri been willing to do that with Phichit?

But he swore he’d seen…

Yuuri got up from the bar, marched over to Pres and Tyler with Phichit close behind him. Ears ringing, he grabbed the drink from Tyler’s hands before he could have a sip.

“Hey!” the freshman shouted. “What are you doing?”

“I hope I’m wrong,” Yuuri spat, glaring at his ex. “I hope to hell I’m wrong.” Without another word to them, he turned back toward the bar. He waved over the bartender again, vaguely aware that Phichit and Tyler had both followed him.

“I think your friend wanted me to cut you off,” the bartender said.

Yuuri pushed the drink at him. “I think this was drugged.”

The bartender’s face immediately dropped. He took the drink. “Did anyone drink this?”

“No.”

He put the drink below the surface of the bar and disappeared through a door to what looked like a supply room. He came back with a sheet of paper printed with a black oval and two circles inside. He placed a drop of the drink on each circle, smeared it into the material, waved it in the air. When it was dried, one of the circles had grown dark. “Okay,” the bartender said. “Who gave you this drink?”

Yuuri looked around, tried to find Pres to point him out, but Pres was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 21, 2016, Early Afternoon – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri’s feet were pounding against the pavement, his body propelling him forward. He had music playing, booming in his earbuds. A Wilhelm Scream—the angriest music he could find. He felt dirty, disgusting, disgusted with himself that he’d ever slept with Pres.  _ Pres tried to drug Tyler _ , he kept thinking.  _ Pres tried to drug Tyler _ . He knew, Yuuri knew, that those nights with Pres were all almost entirely blackouts. He knew that, but he also knew how much he used to drink and how badly alcohol interacted with his meds. He never once thought to blame…If Pres had tried to drug Tyler, was it really Yuuri’s fault he couldn’t remember shit from those nights? Yuuri shook his head. He ran.

He ran, and kept running, and kept running for another mile, then two, then more. He ran around campus, he ran back past his apartment, he ran to the rink. When he finally ran back home, he was physically exhausted, but his skin itched under his sweat with unspent agitation. He showered, scrubbed every inch of his body before washing it again. He felt sticky, clammy, even under the hot water. He scrubbed down a third time. He wanted to punch the shower wall, but stopped himself.

He’d never been prone to violent outbursts before, never been prone to fits of rage, but between Viktor being attacked and catching Pres trying to drug an underclassman, Yuuri was full of a righteous anger. He wanted to do something,  _ anything _ , about the situations, but he couldn’t. Viktor was in another country; Pres had disappeared the night before and wasn’t responding on social media.

Yuuri had sobered up quickly the night before while he watched Pres pour a fast-dissolving powder into the drink, and he’d taken action. He had to focus on that. When he saw that Tyler was in trouble, he took action. Even when he’d first met the kid, he warned him away from Pres. Yuuri had helped him avoid an abuser, and he’d helped him avoid becoming the victim of a date rape drug.

Had Pres been drugging Yuuri? His mind went back to it, over and over again. That very first time, he’d only had three or four drinks. Pres gave him a drink then, didn’t he? The nonchalant way he’d brought Yuuri the rum and coke last night. If Phichit hadn’t shown up and decided to cut him off, he would’ve drunk it. Would Yuuri have woken up in Pres’s dorm, alone and naked and feeling like he’d cheated on Viktor out of frustration without actually remembering getting there or anything in between?

Now that he thought about it, every time he’d seen Pres outside of GSA meetings this semester, Pres was always trying to get him a drink. They’d only ever had sex in bars or after going out drinking. Yuuri knew that he’d been out of control with his alcohol consumption, and he’d always blamed himself for the sketchy way things always seemed to go down with Pres, but what if…he hated to think it, but what if Pres really had been drugging him? Was it just once or twice? Every single time?

Yuuri pulled at his hair under the running water, screamed into the shower head. He had no answers, and he wasn’t sure he wanted any.

For the first time since that long night on the hotel roof when Viktor had suggested a lack of consent on Yuuri’s part, Yuuri now felt like he had been raped.

They’d given the bartender Pres’s name, his information. They’d gotten to point him out on security footage. Pres would be banned from the bar: not allowed to set foot in the doors, kicked out if he slipped in, completely for life. Tyler had been too upset to go home on his own; Phichit invited him to come home with them, and the kid stayed on their couch and talked on the phone with a friend in California until four in the morning. He was worked up, but he didn’t ask Yuuri about anything. Didn’t ask how he’d seen or how he’d known what was in the drink. Didn’t ask about his history with Pres. If anything, Tyler clung to Phichit and avoided Yuuri the whole time he was at their apartment.

Phichit had made Yuuri sober up completely before going to bed, which hadn’t been too difficult since he’d only had a handful of drinks. He took his evening medication, and maybe he took one extra of the pills that knocked him out, before crashing into a deep and dreamless sleep. When he woke the next day, it was already past noon and Tyler was gone. Phichit had gone to Sunday practice, left a note saying he’d cover for Yuuri if he wanted to take the day off to cool down.

Instead, Yuuri had gone on the run.

The run wasn’t enough. After he got out of the shower, he dressed and packed his gear, jogged lightly to the rink. Inside, he went straight to the locker room, donned his skates, walked through the passageway between the locker room and the ice.

Phichit saw him while he was mid-jump and ended up touching down in his landing. He ignored Celestino and skated over to the boards. “Yuuri, you made it! Are you feeling okay?”

Yuuri shook his head and made his way to the entrance. “Everything’s fucked up and I’m pissed off,” he said. He popped the guards off of his blades and left them near the gate. Ignoring Phichit’s next question and Celestino calling out to him, he began to skate laps along the edge of the ice.

He built up speed, jumped. Jumped again, and again. He worked through all of the triples, each jump in rapid succession. He worked on his quad toe loop until he was bored, worked on the quad Salchow. Celestino was trying to talk to him, but he ignored his coach. He jumped the quad Salchow again, then began to build up speed for something new. He was mad about Pres, but he was also livid about Viktor, and he wanted to be there for Viktor and talk about Pres with Viktor and he just wanted Viktor—he attempted a quad flip and crashed onto the ice.

Celestino and Phichit both immediately stopped what they were doing and skated over to him, but before they could get there, Yuuri was up and taking off again in another loop around the ice to build up speed. He tried the quad flip again, and fell again. This time, Celestino reached him before he was fully on his feet.

“What the hell are you doing, Yuuri?” Celestino shouted. “Where is your head?”

“I don’t fucking know!” Yuuri shot back.

“Off the ice,” Celestino pointed toward the gate.

“But Ciao-Ciao, I—”

“Wherever your head is, it’s not here, and I’m not going to let you break any bones trying jumps you haven’t learned days before we leave for Worlds. Off the ice. Go cool down.”

Yuuri huffed, but he skated toward the gate, put his guards back in place and went back to the locker room. He still felt like he wanted to punch something, still didn’t know where to direct that emotion. After trading his skates for his sneakers, he went to the weight room and began lifting. The burn wasn’t what he wanted, but once he’d started his routine, he couldn’t let himself stop. He bounced from one piece of equipment to the next until he’d spent a little over an hour working out.

By now, he knew his body needed a break, but he still felt the anxious energy festering under his skin. He wished he had access to a dance pole. If he could hold himself upside down for a few minutes, maybe all of the blood would rush to his head, and then redistribute itself so that he didn’t feel like screaming until his teeth fell out.

He felt like screaming until his teeth fell out.

In the back corner of the weight room, there was a hanging bag that Yuuri had never used and barely noticed. Right now, though, it caught his eye. Even though his arms felt like jelly and he knew he’d regret it tomorrow, he found himself googling proper punching techniques. He watched a quick YouTube tutorial on how to work with a heavy bag before giving it a go. He punched hesitantly at first, not quite sure what it would feel like. Then he punched harder. He punched harder and faster, more haphazardly than he should. It felt good. It finally felt like exactly what he should be doing. He tried not to picture the bag as Pres or as Viktor’s attackers, or as Viktor’s parents, or as the boys from Hasetsu who’d bullied him relentlessly in middle school. He tried not to imagine the force of his aggression against physical, human bodies, but when the bag morphed in his mind, he aimed straight for their invisible jaws. Yuuri had never been so angry before.

He punched the bag, and it didn’t move. Celestino poked his head around the bag, hands holding it still. “What’s going on with you, Yuuri?” he asked, voice much quieter than it had been on the ice.

Yuuri sighed. “Everything.”

Celestino moved to the other side of the bag, put his arm around Yuuri. “Let’s talk about it in my office, okay?” When Yuuri nodded, Celestino led him through the sports complex until they came to his office. He closed the door behind them both. “So, everything. Can you narrow it down for me?”

Yuuri collapsed into a chair, and Celestino pulled a red Gatorade from a mini-fridge hidden under his desk. He tossed the bottle to Yuuri, who twisted open the top and took a long drink before speaking. He said, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

The Italian coach nodded. “Let’s start with Viktor, then. I only know what I’ve seen on the news, but I’m assuming you know more.”

He nodded. While Yuuri had avoided watching the viral footage, Viktor had told him the details, even some of the things that weren’t apparent in the videos. “So, there were three of them, and they stopped him on his morning run. They backed him up near a building, and then the biggest one threw him into a doorway so hard that the door cracked. He said that if he’d been just a little bit further to the side, the doorknob would’ve hit him hard in the back and he might’ve hurt his spine. That’s how hard they pushed him. And then the big one just kind of held him there and filmed it while the other two started hitting him, and he said that at one point one of them had their hands around his throat and he couldn’t breathe, and then they threw him on the sidewalk and he hit his head. They said if they saw him again, they’d cut off his balls and his dick. Vitya waited until they were gone before he got up and went to the rink and had someone there look at him. He says it’s a miracle he doesn’t have a concussion or any broken bones.”

Celestino shook his head. “We were so concerned about him not being in contact with his family, so that he could avoid this. I never would have thought that strangers…”

“Well,” Yuuri said, “you’re not gay.  _ I _ should’ve _ known  _ better.”

“It’s not your…Yuuri, if anyone harasses or threatens you, you’ll let me know, right?”

Yuuri hid his face by finishing the Gatorade. He liked the blue ones and the orange ones better, but red was okay enough, and it was free, so he wasn’t complaining. He twisted the lid back onto the empty bottle, fidgeted in his seat. “Um…about that…”

When Yuuri trailed off, Celestino sighed. “You don’t  _ have _ to tell me if you don’t want to, but I think that whatever this is that’s bothering you is only going to get worse if you don’t talk it out now. It’ll affect your performance at Worlds, but it will also affect your daily life. Again, you don’t have to say anything, but I am here to listen.”

Yuuri looked away, stared at the corner of the small area rug underneath Celestino’s desk. After allowing several minutes of silence to lapse, Celestino shrugged and rolled his chair back to get up, but before he could stand, Yuuri cut him off. “I ran into my ex last night,” he said. “He, um…we went out last year, never really anything serious. I never called him my boyfriend or anything…Ciao-Ciao, he tried to…I saw him put something in a drink…I…he…I had sex with him before, last year, that I don’t really remember, and…I think he drugged me last year. We weren’t in love or anything, but I still…by the time things ended, I had feelings for him. It was more than just sex, you know? And I’m so  _ angry _ . I always thought I didn’t remember when we had sex because I’d drunk too much and it interacted with my meds, but now…I don’t know, and it’s killing me. I already knew he was abusive, because Ketty and Viktor kept telling me that he was and I eventually started to see what they were saying, but drugging someone? I think he  _ drugged _ me, Ciao-Ciao. I think I was raped. It’s all fucked up, and Viktor is hurt, so I don't want to bother him, but I don’t know what to do about  _ any _ of it. Even if he didn't drug me last year, he tried to drug this freshman kid that I know, and I saw it happen. My _ex_ did that.”

Celestino didn’t respond, clearly didn’t know how to respond. Eventually, he shook himself out of his silence. “This is that lacrosse guy, right? The one you were seeing last year? Preston?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll call his coach, get him dropped from the team.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. I have a responsibility to you, Yuuri, and I obviously failed at that last year. I’m so sorry. Plus, I work with teens. I’m a mandated reporter. I’m going to report this.”

“But I’m an adult.”

“Yes, you are. That doesn’t make what he did to you any less okay, Yuuri. I have a responsibility to you, and to the younger kids I work with. Did you ever hang out with this guy while Phichit was still underage? I have to report this. I can leave your name out of it, if you want me to, but I’m going to do whatever I can to ruin his future in athletics.”

Yuuri had started scratching his arm, he didn’t know when, and he noticed the bright red scrape marks of his nails surrounding darker scar mark. He sat on his hands. “I don’t know if I want anyone to know or not.”

Celestino nodded and pulled a pen out of a cup on his desk. He tested it on scrap paper to see if it wrote, and when it did, he woke his computer and printed a copy of a form. “I’ll leave you anonymous for now,” he said. “And you can come forward in your own time, only if you want. There is nothing wrong with keeping this private, any of this. I’ll do what I can to get him off the field.”

“He’s banned from the bar, too.”

“Good. You seem a little better than when you got here. Are you feeling better now?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah. I’m still angry, though.”

“I think you should be. You’ve got a lot of things to be angry about. Just, if you want to skate it out, don’t get reckless like you were before. You don’t want to have even more to be angry about because you couldn’t control your temper. How about instead of indiscriminately jumping things you’ve never practiced before, why don’t you do one of those YouTube videos?”

“Huh? You think I should make up a whole new routine, five days before we leave for Worlds?”

“I think if it’ll keep you from injuring yourself trying to do quad flips with no guidance or direction, then yes. Your other two are mostly just rearrangements of some of your junior programs, anyway. I know you’re not pouring a mountain of energy into creating new choreography. If you think it will help, I think you should. Make it to a really angry song, one you could never do in competition because of the language.”

Yuuri smiled. “That sounds fucking perfect. I think I know just the song.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 points to the Hogwarts house of your choice if you can guess what song Yuuri's going to pick for the next chapter...
> 
> What kind of things would you like to see our boys do in Japan, either in Tokyo or in Hasetsu? Either as a date just Viktor and Yuuri or with their friends (Phichit, Georgi, Chris will all be in town).
> 
> I am crowdsourcing ideas for upcoming chapters, and I am not ashamed. I can't guarantee everything will make it in, but if you have a burning desire to see something happen in Japan, drop it in the comments, and I'll try to come up with a framework that includes some suggestions.
> 
> Thanks in advance!
> 
> (Also, if you commented on my blog post a couple days ago and I haven't gotten back to you on that yet, sorry!! I was inundated with comments across multiple social media platforms and am still trying to catch up!)


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirty points to Ravenclaw!! #makeflitwickproud

**March 23, 2016, Late Evening– St. Petersburg, Russia**

 

{link}

{ **Katsuki Yuuri –** [ **Break Stuff**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCslC3ykX-U) }

{icon image: Yuuri alone on the ice, mid-jump}

100,009 Views

Viktuuri Skate Vids

 

Published March 22, 2016

My dog is dead, I feel like shit, my ex is shit, what happened to Vitya’s life is shit. Everything is shit. – Yuuri

 

14,267 Comments

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**Aristotle Aristotle** 19 hours ago Holy shit I know what happened to Viktor, but what about this ex? Like, it even took precedence over his current (probably) bf getting beaten up by asshats. I gotta know what happened with the ex.

View all 290 replies

**BDBDBDBD** 18 hours ago Aristotle Aristotle whatever it was had to have been terrible. Limp Bizkit is not someone you crack out lightly. Like, you have to really be in a rage to decide that this is tolerable music to listen to. I’m honestly a little surprised that it’s within Yuuri-kun’s repertoire of musical selections. He seems more mellow most of the time. Like, I was a little surprised by the Linkin Park stuff before, but going as far as Limp Bizkit…

**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 4 hours ago BDBDBDBD Actually, you’d be surprised what kinds of music Yuuri listens to. Before we got to know each other, I assumed he’d probably be into soft rock or classical (which is my forte), but he has a wide library of screaming things. I don’t quite understand all of it, but it can definitely be cathartic. I think I might have needed this song in my life right now, too. Plus, Yuuri’s skating is beautiful as always – Viktor

 

**Paris Pasguetti** 12 hours ago WHAT IS WITH ALL OF THESE INSANE JUMPS??? HOW CAN HE JUMP SO MUCH LIKE THIS??? SIX COMBINATION JUMPS??? IN TWO AND A HALF MINUTES???? WHAT THE HELLBEAST KIND OF MONSTER IS HE??? and also very serious question WHY CANT HE LAND THEM IN COMPETITIONS??????? Is he broken or something?

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**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 11 hours ago Paris Pasguetti Yes, I *AM* broken. It’s called ANXIETY, thank you. I have a lot of it. It fucks with my life and is fucking awful, just like EVERYTHING ELSE AND YOU TOO. – Hellbeast Monster Who Packs a Chainsaw aka Yuuri

**Randolph Scott’s Dick** 2 hours ago Paris Pasguetti got called out by Katsuki and I am living for it. But you’re not wrong about the holy hellbeast mode that Yuuri-kun unleashed in this video. Like, so much fury and rage. So much. It’s such a satisfying video.

 

**a o e eoies** 18 hours ago This. This is everything. I have been having such a shitty day at work, and watching this, it’s just like, I needed this rage monster so badly right now. It sucks that Yuuri-kun is obviously going through something rough, but he’s a good kid and will be able to get back on his feet soon. I have faith in him, and seeing him vent his frustrations in a positive way is helping me deal with everything my boss is throwing at me. Yuuri-kun, Ganbatte!!

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**Just Another Maid a Milkin** 17 hours ago a o e eoies I know what you mean; it’s been a long, rough day for me, too. I haven’t heard this song in years, but this just made everything feel so much more manageable right now. I hope that Yuuri gets through okay. It seemed like he’d been doing really well lately. I hope that whatever happened isn’t a major setback for him.

**a o e eoies** 17 hours ago Just Another Maid a Milkin I hope your day gets better, too! I just finally got to leave my office, and I am so done. I watched this video three more times again. It’s very cathartic, I don’t know why.

 

**Verily Thus Mayhaps** 14 hours ago Is it weird that I kind of appreciate that you can see that giant-ass scar on his arm from when he tried to kill himself a couple months ago? Like, he’s not trying to hide it at all, and he’s not afraid to say when things are shitty. It’s like the more he says how he feels, or shows it through skating I guess, the easier it is for him to not be suicidal. And I love that. I love when people I like are not suicidal. It’s clear that he’s upset about a bunch of things right now, but he’s not trying to kill himself, and I am here for that. I hope whatever is going on gets better soon, Yuuri-kun!!

View all 347 replies

**My dog is better than people** 13 hours ago Verily Thus Mayhaps Is it weird that I agree with you on this? I only started following figure skating at all because one of my friends is obsessed with the sport and knows I have mental issues, so she kept bombarding me with information about Yuuri. Lately, the news and the videos have all felt like it’s the Viktor hour, and it was good for me to be reminded that if Yuuri is working hard with all of his issues, then I can, too. Yuuri is a huge inspiration for me, and I’m so glad that he’s out there, skating these routines without trying to hide his scars. It makes me feel like I’m not alone in the world. I don’t know if he does it on purpose or not, but I really appreciate it, I guess is what I’m saying.

**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 11 hours ago My dog is better than people Actually, since it happened, I’ve avoided wearing shorter sleeves, because it’s a really nasty scar and I don’t like looking at it. Also, I have bad habit of scratching at the scar or at my arm in general, so wearing the long sleeves has been good for that. I’ve just been so angry the past couple of days I didn’t even think about it when I put on that shirt, I guess. I didn’t realize that people would be able to see the scar at all. I didn’t even think about it. I hope that means progress, even if everything else is shit. I hope you’re getting the help and care that you need. I would not be able to survive without it, especially not this week. Also, yes, dogs are better than people. – Yuuri

**I Speak Pittsburghuese** 9 hour ago Can we get some general explanation behind some of that video description? Like, I remember that his dog died in December, but why bring it up now? Aren’t most people over it after a few months when their pets die? And what happened with the ex? I know that getting jumped by thugs is terrible, but why is Viktor’s whole life shit? Why does he feel like shit? I just want to know!!!!

View all 94 replies

**If we have the COURAGE** 6 hours ago I Speak Pittsburghuese I totally know what you mean. I am a huge slut for relationship drama, especially when you throw in a shitty ex that nobody knew about. Like, since when did Yuuri date? (before Viktor, obviously). I know there wasn’t ever any info about his private life available until he tried to off himself, but you’d think someone would’ve taken some kind of picture of him out with his boyfriend if he’d had one, don’t you?

**Viktuuri Skate Vids** 4 hours ago I Speak Pittsburghuese It is normal to grieve a pet for a very long time, especially when someone has as close of a connection with their pet as Yuuri did with Vicchan. Pets are a part of our lives and families. Makkachin is the only family I have. I will be devastated for years when she dies. Yuuri is also not wrong about that lacrosse-playing asshole being shit; trust me, I have met him, and he is shit. – Viktor

 

 

 

 

 

 

Viktor checked the shipping address labels on each of his boxes one more time. They were all identical, written in both Cyrillic and Japanese, printed and taped to each box in prominent locations. Nothing was left standing in his apartment; even the mattress and bed frame had been taken to a donation center that afternoon. At this point, he was only in the apartment to make sure the boxes were still alright. Tomorrow, the shipping company would come to pick up his entire life.

The Katsukis knew they were coming, knew to be expecting Viktor’s boxes and boxes of things at any point over the next few weeks. He hoped they would arrive while he and Yuuri were in Hasetsu and not Tokyo; he would hate for his future in-laws to have to take care of all of this junk for him.

He smiled at the thought of the Katsukis as in-laws. Someday, in some country—not either of their own—he would marry Katsuki Yuuri. It would probably be months more into their relationship before he decided to bring up the idea, but he already knew how much he wanted Yuuri to be his husband, how much he wanted to be Yuuri’s legal spouse. He wanted his eternity to be lashed together with Yuuri’s, wanted to be forever intertwined.

He winced as he carried the boxes from throughout the apartment to the living room. Heavier boxes on the floor, lighter ones stacked on top. Viktor moved them and rearranged them until they were clustered together and ready to be shipped. He took out his phone.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ I’m ready whenever you are _

_ Thanks for letting me stay _

 

Near the kitchen, he slumped along the wall until he was sitting on the floor. His two suitcases for Tokyo were already packed and waiting for him in the doorway; his overnight bag for tomorrow was ready and waiting with them. He just had to come back to this apartment once more before he could leave it behind for good. His phone buzzed.

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ I’m outside your building _

_ Do you need any help bringing anything down? _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ No, thanks. Be there in a couple minutes _

 

Viktor picked up his overnight bag and left the apartment. He locked the door, went to the elevator, pressed the call button to go down. When he reached the ground floor, he nodded to the doorman before walking out. He looked quickly up and down the street for Georgi’s car, not leaving the shelter of his building’s doorway until he found it. He hadn’t been outside alone since the attack, partially his own fear, but partially to appease Yakov. Georgi picked him up in his car, dropped him off. Georgi took Makkachin back to his apartment and took care of her needs. Georgi dragged Viktor to the pharmacy to pick up pain killers and reminded him to be icing his injuries.

Georgi deserved a gold-plated mansion.

When he did spot the car, he jogged over to it before jumping into the passenger seat. “Hey,” he said. “Thank you for coming; you didn’t need to.”

Georgi pulled into the road and began the drive across the city toward his own apartment. “Your contusions say I did. Is everything ready for your move?”

“Yeah, all that’s left is to actually get the stuff to Japan. Oh, and me and Makkachin. We need to get to Japan, too.” Viktor smiled. “But then, everything will be okay.”

“I’m going to miss that dog,” Georgi said. “I might be more attached to her than you, Vitya.”

Viktor froze in his seat, held his breath. So very few people called him Vitya, and half of those that did, did so with poison in their mouths. He had never once reached the point of friendship with another Russian where they used each others’ diminutive names. Sure, he’d called Yuri Plisetsky  _ Yura _ on occasion, but the junior skater had never called him anything other than  _ Viktor _ . He shook with the weight of it, then passed it off as an involuntary shiver. “She’s a good dog,” he said. If Georgi felt close enough to call him ‘Vitya,’ did he expect Viktor to use a diminutive name in return? He didn’t know whether Georgi would prefer ‘Gosha’ or ‘Zhora,’ or if he even would want it. He also didn’t know how to ask.

When they got to Georgi’s apartment, Viktor dropped his overnight bag by the couch and fell onto the cushions. Makkachin jumped up with him, piled herself into his lap. Viktor wrapped his arms around his dog and buried his face in her fur. “I really can’t thank you enough for everything,” he said to Georgi.

The other skater shrugged his shoulders and dropped onto the opposite side of the couch. “You’re my friend, Vitya, and you needed help. I can’t imagine how rough the past week and a half has been on you. I’d be withdrawing from Worlds.”

Viktor shook his head, spat a little dog fur away from his lips. “If I do that, then they win. I don’t like losing.”

“You’re still in a lot of pain, though.”

“I know,” Viktor said. “But it’s nothing. Well, it’s not as bad as when I was a kid, you know?”

“Can I ask…” Georgi began, then trailed off. “Never mind, it’s not important.”

“I don’t mind,” Viktor replied.

“When did it stop? I remember meeting your father once, when he came to the rink. He didn’t—I suppose that they never seem like the type, do they? We’ve only talked about this a little, and I don’t want to press, but if what happened is going to keep those old wounds at the surface…”

Viktor nodded. He’d never shared the details with anyone other than Yuuri. Yakov knew, but Yakov had seen. Viktor remembered Yakov visiting his hospital bed, guiding him in a wheelchair at his mother’s funeral. Until this year, Viktor never broached the topic with Yakov and had only had discussions when the old coach brought it up. “I should probably talk about it more,” Viktor said slowly. “I just don’t know where to begin. I don’t even remember a time when my mother didn’t hit me. It didn’t just start one day. It just was what it was. I don’t even remember how many times they ended up taking me to the hospital because she’d gone too far. I remember one time, when I was seven, I had a broken arm in a cast, and she threw me into a wall so hard she broke the cast and caused a new fracture in the bone. I think the hospital tried to call the police on them several times, but because we were Nikiforovs, they never came. It was like my parents knew I was gay from the moment I was born, and they hated me for it. These people who jumped me last week, they didn’t even break any bones. It’s not a big deal, comparatively.”

“Can I ask something I don’t understand?” Georgi asked. When Viktor nodded, he said, “If your parents were so homophobic, then how did you start figure skating? There’s definitely a stereotype that we’re all gay. I know when I was in the US as a kid and started skating, I got teased a lot, and I’m very straight. It just seems like the opposite of something you’d be allowed to do.”

Viktor laughed, a dry and bitter chuckle. “My mother thought it would annoy my father, so she signed me up for lessons. She didn’t expect me to be any good at it, or to want to keep going. The only reason she allowed me to continue was because she knew how much my father hated it. I think they also liked not having to see me in the house. I know I liked not being in the house…it was all about them and their power games, me figure skating. They never once came to a single competition, you know.”

Georgi nodded. Even before they’d become rinkmates as teenagers, he had competed against Viktor at regional competitions, even won over him a couple of times. “Why did you stick with it?”

“I don’t know,” Viktor said with a shrug. “It was all I had. Anyway, tell me more about what’s going on with you. How’s your girlfriend?”

Georgi sighed and reached over to scratch Makkachin behind one ear. “She’s been distant the past few weeks. She’s allergic to dogs, so she won’t come over while Makka’s here, even though poodles are hypoallergenic. She says she doesn’t want to risk it, and I appreciate that, but sometimes I get the sense that she’s using it as an excuse. I don’t know what to do about it besides wait and observe if it’s any different after you move.”

“I didn’t know housing Makkachin was going to be a problem,” Viktor muttered into Makkachin’s fur.

“It wasn’t,” Georgi said. He leaned back against the couch, let his head loll into the cushion. “She’s a great dog. I’ve never had pets, so it was a new experience. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

Viktor smiled, wide and bright. “She’s the best dog, isn’t she? Aren’t you, girl? Best dog ever.” Makkachin chose that moment to jump down from the couch, stretch her body and trot toward the apartment door, nails clicking against the the floor. When she reached the door, she sat, looked up at the knob, then back at Viktor. She whined, high and in the back of her nose, then looked at the door again. Viktor laughed. “I guess I better take her outside,” he said. He didn’t relish the idea of being out, alone and after sunset, but he couldn’t rely on Georgi for everything. He shifted forward in his seat, but stopped when Georgi placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take her, don’t worry,” he said.

Viktor swallowed, then stood up. “No, it’s okay. I can take her. I mean, she’s my dog.”

Georgi also stood. “It’s no problem for me. I already know the area, and the places she’s claimed as her own. I wouldn’t want you to get lost, or hurt.”

Viktor shook his head. “I can’t live like this, Georgi. I can’t even take my own dog on a walk.”

“You’re literally moving to another country tomorrow. It’s okay. Let me do this for you. Twenty-four hours. Just twenty-four more hours, and you can pick up all the dog poop you want.”

He turned his face toward Makkachin, the dog growing impatient. With a sigh, he fell back into the sofa. “You’re right,” he said. “Thank you.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Georgi said. He walked to the door, clipped a leash onto Makka’s collar. She pulled him through the door, and Viktor was alone.

In the stillness of his friend’s apartment, he shivered. The drop was sudden, nearly a complete crash. Silence pressed against his ears, and he clapped his hands over them, which only caused a ringing. Leaving, he was leaving the country tomorrow. Tomorrow, and he was officially out of Russia. Three more weeks, and he’d be able to publicly say how much he loved Yuuri. Less than twenty-four hours. He should be happy, should be ecstatic…this is what he’d dreamed of for years, wasn’t it? The chance to live his life with a man that he loved in a place that was safe. It was finally happening, and all he could feel was the overwhelming terror of the next twenty-four hours. He had to meet with the shipping company—strangers—and turn over his key to Pavel Nikolaievitch, who had been treating him with increasing indifference for months. The doorman hadn’t even petted Makkachin the last time he’d brought the dog through the main entrance of the building. Would tomorrow be the day that he snapped? He felt an overwhelming sense of dread grow in his bruised body. His stomach and his sides ached, the muscles in his shoulders and back twitched. He wasn’t breathing…

Panic attack. Yuuri had those often, and Viktor had watched him work his way through them many times, enough that he recognized his own highly infrequent ones. He tried to focus on the way Yuuri handled panic attacks, tried to regulate his breathing. He dug into his bag for his bottle of pills. One a day, a second if needed, no more than two. He normally took them right before bed, so he’d taken none. With shaking hands, he removed the cap and pulled two pills from the bottle, swallowed them without water. He twisted the cap back into place and looked around for his phone, found it had fallen between the couch cushions.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ Not okay; are you free? _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Facetime? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, shysweetthing changed the chapter count on Undiscovered Country from 7 to 8, and I'm freaking out over here because Undiscovered Country is amazing. I haven't read chapter 7 yet because I noticed it was updated while I was going back through this chapter, but I am about to go read it now.
> 
> As far as I can recall, I have never once spoken with shysweetthing, so this is in no way a paid propaganda for their story. But seriously, I love it, and if you haven't read it yet, go check it out: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11941542
> 
> Wish me luck, because chapter 6 ended on a huge emotional cliffhanger, and I might explode if chapter 7 does, too (now that there are eight chapters!!!)


	36. Chapter 36

**March 24, 2016, Late Afternoon – St. Petersburg, Russia**

Viktor watched his boxes leave the pavement and get arranged into the shipping truck. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. It was over. As soon as the truck pulled out, he and Georgi would be on their way to the airport with Makkachin for their flight. First to Moscow, then to Tokyo. The layover was short. Finnair, unlike Aeroflot, didn’t see the need to keep customers in Moscow for an entire day between flights.

While the movers were working, he read back through his text conversation with Yuuri.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Not okay; are you free?_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Facetime?_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I’m at Georgi’s; he’s out walking Makkachin, but he’ll probably be back any minute_

_I don’t want to be rude_

_He’s doing so much for me_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_We can just text if you want_

_What’s going on?_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Overwhelmed._

_I should be walking Makka_

_Georgi was afraid I’d get jumped again_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_I’m afraid of that, too, Vitya_

_I’m very afraid of that._

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Me too._

_I hate that this is happening to me_

_I keep saying it’s not as bad as when I was a kid._

_Because it’s not_

_But at least when I was a kid, I wasn’t afraid of going outside by myself_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_But you were afraid of going home._

_I don’t think you should be comparing the two situations_

_What is happening to you right now is not okay_

_That isn’t diminished by the fact that bad things have happened to you before._

_What time is your flight tomorrow?_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_It’s in the evening_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_I wish I could make it sooner._

_I never should’ve said you should go back there_

_I’m sorry I didn’t try to keep you here._

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_No, I…_

_It’s not your fault!_

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Nikiforov?” One of the movers called to get his attention.

Viktor locked his phone screen and looked up. “Sorry,” he said. “Yes?”

The man handed him a clipboard with an invoice attached to it, a pen connected by a string. “If you could just sign this, please, then we’ll get your stuff on its way. It must be exciting, moving to a new country,” he said.

Viktor signed the paper. “It is,” he said. “I’m very fortunate.” He passed the clipboard back.

The mover nodded and double-checked the sheet. “You know,” he said, “I saw about those thugs on the news. I’m glad you didn’t break anything. Go win us another gold, eh?”

“I’ll do my best,” he said. Win another gold—win two more, counting WTT. Win two more golds, then retire, come out, move to Hasetsu officially. He wondered if he and Yuuri should find their own apartment, or if they really should just stay at Yutopia Katsuki, as Yuuri’s parents had suggested. If Yuuri was right about the depressed economic state of his hometown, then Viktor could probably purchase a whole house for them, easily. Maybe after they got married…

He was thinking about marriage again. He was leaving Russia tonight, and even if marriage wasn’t legal in Japan either, it still seemed like a real possibility for the future. He could get married, and he would never have to come back to this place again. He could be free.

The mover shook his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said before getting into the truck and driving away with Viktor’s entire material life behind him. Viktor watched the vehicle pass down the street for two blocks before taking the turn that led toward the highway. He texted Georgi that he was done, and pushed the phone into his pocket.

He entered the apartment building, took the elevator up to his floor, unlocked the door one last time with his key. The only things left were his two suitcases, waiting to be checked through to Tokyo. He wandered through the apartment, checking each room to make sure nothing had been missed. Viktor felt no attachment to the walls, to the hardwood floors under his feet. He felt no lost love over the large rain simulator shower head he’d had installed three years ago. This empty apartment had never been much of a home, and in its vacated state, Viktor felt the ghost of himself, of his self-isolation and depression, hovering disquieted and clinging to the walls like a film.

He shivered at a cold draft, moved his suitcases to the hallway, and locked the door behind him. He took the elevator down.

In the lobby, he walked over to the doorman. Of all the people who could have turned on him, Viktor had never expected Pavel Nikolaievitch to become hostile, but he had. Viktor missed the playful conversations with the man, the well-intentioned barbs at Viktor’s perpetual singledom. Pavel Nikolaievitch had never been a close friend, but Viktor had known him for five years and he mourned the loss of comfort with him that had developed since January. “Hello,” he said.

“Turning in your keys, Mr. Nikiforov?” the doorman asked.

“Was there ever such formality between us, Pavel Nikolaievitch?” Viktor asked. He placed the keys on the man’s desk. “There’s no need for it now.”

Pavel Nikolaievitch huffed. “If you’re no longer a resident—”

“After all,” Viktor said, “I’m taking your advice and settling down with someone who loves me. Someone who isn’t going to hurt me, the way so many others have. Someone who is kind and loving, who doesn’t think I’m worthless outside of my medals. Someone who cherishes me for who I am. Isn’t that what you’ve been asking me to do all these years? Find someone to love and be happy?”

The man didn’t respond, but Viktor could see frustration and embarrassment in his eyes. In the harsh silence, Viktor’s eyes began to fill with tears. He turned his face away and didn’t let them fall. “Goodbye, Pavel Nikolaievitch,” he said. “Thank you.” With a hand on each suitcase, he maneuvered them through the door to the outside and let it fall shut behind him. He stood near the door, out of the way of any possible foot traffic through the building, and checked his phone.

 

_From Georgi:_

_On my way_

 

He waited, eyes scanning the street for Georgi’s car. When it pulled up to the curb, Viktor dragged his bags toward the vehicle. Georgi popped the trunk, and Viktor stuffed his two suitcases in alongside Georgi’s one. In the back seat, Makkachin whined in her crate.

Viktor closed the trunk, and the sound of it latching nearly obscured the sound of a voice calling his name from behind him. He turned, hoping to see the doorman come to apologize, but instead came face to face with his cousin.

“Boris,” he said.

“I’m glad I’ve caught you,” the younger man said. “I wanted to ask you a quick question about the rest of the funds that you inherited from Uncle Andrei’s estate.”

“And you felt the need to come in person?” Behind Viktor, Georgi killed the engine and stepped out of the car.

“I also may have wanted to see you before you go. You are leaving tonight, correct?”

Georgi cleared his throat. “We’re on the way to the airport now,” he said.

“Indeed, I can see that. You are Georgi Popovich, yes? Boris Antipov, Viktor’s cousin. I quite enjoyed your short program performance at this year’s Nationals.” Boris extended a hand to shake, and Georgi took it, though Viktor could see a glimmer of distrust in his eyes. “Viktor, I wondered if you had any further plans for Uncle’s money.”

Viktor nodded. “I do,” he said. “I intend to donate the rest of it.”

“I assume the cause that you mentioned at the reading of the will?”

“Where you were half asleep?”

“Well, there was no reason for me to attend that meeting. I only went along to appease Mother. You must recall how it is with the Nikiforov family. She was quite insistent. If you intend to follow through on that cause, I would recommend you look into this organization.” Boris pulled an envelope from inside of his coat and handed it to Viktor. “They seem to have reach at the national level and support internationally.”

Viktor took the envelope, slipped it inside his own coat. “I will look at this in Tokyo,” he said.

Boris smiled. “I should expect no less. Well, have a safe flight, cousin. I hope that our next encounter will be on kinder grounds than this one.” He held his hand out to Viktor.

Viktor looked at the offered hand, then pulled his cousin into a quick but firm hug. “ _Dasvidanya_ , Boris,” he said.

Boris, stunned by the hug, didn’t even have time to reciprocate it before Viktor was letting him go. He stood still while Viktor and Georgi got into Georgi’s car, waved weakly as Georgi pulled away. Viktor turned in his seat to wave through the rear window, then settled back down facing forward. Georgi took the turn toward the highway; in another twenty minutes, they would be at the airport, checking in and dropping off Makkachin for the flight. In just a few short hours, they would be in Moscow, and two hours after that—Viktor would be in the air and out of the country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 25, 2016, Early Morning – Detroit, United States**

Yuuri sighed and rubbed his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “ _Iie iie,_ Okaa-san,” he said, “We can take the train from Fukuoka to Hasetsu. It’s not a problem. _Please_ don’t send Minako-sensei to pick us up at the airport.”

Over the phone, his mother sighed. “What kind of impression are we making on your Vicchan if we don’t have someone come get you? We all know how important he is to you, Yuuri. We don’t want to scare him away.”

“He’s not going to—that wouldn’t scare him away. And do you have to call him that? That was our dog’s name.”

“ _Ara?_ Yuuri, are you embarrassed? Don’t worry; Mama will take care of that quickly. I’ve been working on the scrapbooks, you know.”

“ _Okaa-san!_ Vitya doesn’t need to see scrapbooks!” Yuuri shouted, then gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. Next to him, Phichit was snickering, and across from him, Celestino was rolling his eyes. A handful of other travelers on their first flight were giving him sharp glares. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to the offended passengers before returning his attention to the phone.

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri,” Hiroko was saying, “It’s my job as your mother to embarrass you fully while the relationship is still young. It’s an official test, you know. I have to make sure Vicchan is worthy of my baby.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Of course he is. I think the problem is really the other way around, but here we are.”

His sister’s voice, a little farther away, cut in over his mother, “Don’t put yourself down like that, little brother.”

“Am I on speakerphone?”

“Well, the dishwasher is broken, and there are a lot of dishes, so I need my hands,” his mother replied. “Don’t worry; someone is coming tomorrow to fix it, but there’s still tonight to get through first. So, remind me again what day we should be expecting you.”

“April fourth. I don’t know when the things are going to get there, though. I hope they don’t arrive until after we do. I’m really sorry we’re going to be putting you out for a while.”

“Just don’t have sex in the onsen, and I don’t care,” Mari said.

“ _Oneechan!_ This is why I don’t call home more often.”

“Your sister does have a point. I wouldn’t ban it; that’s how Mari was made, but if you do want to, you need to make sure you—”

“No no no, stop. I don’t need to know that, and it’s not happening.” Over the PA system at his gate, a woman announced the second boarding group; he was in Group Three. “Alright, I have to go; we’re going to start boarding soon. I’ll see you in a couple weeks?”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon, Yuuri. Love you.”

“You too, Okaa-san.” He pulled his phone away from his ear and ended the call. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and tugged up the collapsible handle on his carry-on. “Why can’t the globe be smaller?” he muttered to himself. Detroit to Chicago, Chicago to Seoul, Seoul to Tokyo. At least the tickets ended up being three hundred dollars cheaper than flying from Detroit to Tokyo. Those were three hundred dollars he could use for other things, more important things. Like taking Viktor to a love hotel after the Gala, because he knew Viktor would find the concept completely foreign.

Yuuri had never been to a love hotel himself, but he knew how they worked, and he knew how to find the ones that would accept gay couples.

Viktor also owed him a day where he would do whatever Yuuri wanted. Yuuri smiled, remembering their time at the bowling alley with the middle school fans. On their last game, Viktor had finally conceded to bumpers and he still hadn’t broken 100.

He pulled out his phone again and searched for bowling alleys in Tokyo.

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_Rematch?_

_{link}_

 

_From Vitya <3: _

_You’re on, Katsuki._

_I will topple all of the pins_

_I will bowl to 100_

 

_To Vitya <3: _

_And yet the game is still scored to 300…_

 

When the woman announced boarding for Group Three, he, Phichit and Celestino moved into the line. Phichit pulled something white from his bag, took a selfie with all of them including a paper plate glued to a popsicle stick which bore an image of Viktor’s face. Once the picture was taken, he stuffed Plate Viktor away.

“When did you even make that?” Yuuri asked. “And can I keep it?”

“I made it this morning while you were in the shower, and no, I need it for my selfies. You don’t even post on Instagram.”

“I have a YouTube channel,” Yuuri said. “That’s social media. I even make money off of it.”

“Wait, since when do you make money off of it?”

Yuuri shifted forward with the line, made sure his boarding pass was in hand. “Vitya said we should monetize, since we get so many views. I, um. I got the first check while he was here? We decided that I should get the money from the channel, since Viktor has more money than I do. I’m not…I sent most of it to my parents, you know? But we’ve gotten over a hundred thousand views on all of our videos; it would be stupid to let the ad revenue go entirely to YouTube.”

Phichit looked at him, eyes squinting, trying to ferret something out of Yuuri’s expression. The line moved forward, and Yuuri lurched to keep up with it. “Full of surprises, Yuuri. You’re full of surprises.”

“I’m dating the king of surprises,” he said. “It’s just rubbing off, I guess.” He got to the front of the line, handed his boarding pass to the woman who’d been announcing the groups.

She scanned the pass and handed it back to him. “Have a nice flight,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” Yuuri replied. He walked past her and down the tunnel toward the first of three aircrafts that would take him back to Japan, where Viktor had already landed and was waiting for him.

 

 

 

 

 

{link}

{ **My 2016 World Championship Predictions** }

_Skaters from around the world are flocking to Tokyo right now for the Figure Skating World Championships, and I am hype as fuck about all of this. I’ve been a huge Viktor stan for about seven years now, and I am hoping and praying (fingers crossed) that this is the year he makes a fifth consecutive World Championship and really does go down in history forever as the best figure skater of all time._

_I mean, medal or no, I still think he is the best figure skater of all time._

_So, I have been following the sport and all of its notable athletes for a while, and I just want to lay out some of my best predictions for the way this year is going to go. Since Viktor is my top hero in the sport, I’ll start with his competition:_

_Men’s Singles_

_1) RUS Viktor Nikiforov_

_2) SWI Christophe Giacometti_

_3) JPN Yuuri Katsuki_

_4) CHN Cao Bin_

_5) ITL Michele Crispino_

_6) RUS Georgi Popovich_

_You may be asking yourselves, what about King JJ? I know the Canadian skater made it onto the podium at the GPF, but let’s all face it: he only took bronze because of Yuuri-kun’s self-immolation and because of Cao Bin’s fall on the triple axel in the free skate. I think, with Katsuki back to his full potential and Cao retiring after one last Worlds, there’s no way Leroy makes top 6. I have Popovich slated for sixth because—point value wise—I don’t think he can podium, but with all the shit that’s been thrown Viktor’s way, he’s going to feel a fire to do as best as he can. Viktor and Georgi have never been close friends before, but if you pay attention to either of their social media presences, you can see that something in their dynamic changed shortly after the GPF._

_You may also be wondering why I’m dead stuck on Viktor winning this thing, even though he’s literally more black and blue than a prize fighter right now. I have confidence in Viktor’s ability to skate a winning performance, even if not a world record performance, in spite of the recent attack. Viktor still hasn’t talked about it in any interviews, but by now, I think it’s pretty clear to all of us that some level of domestic violence has always been a part of his life, but he’s still always kept on winning. Even as a novice, Viktor has never once not medaled in competition, hasn’t taken lower than silver in four years, and hasn’t taken anything but gold these past two. Viktor is probably the kind of person who’s thinking that he’s going to show up these people who’ve abused him by being the best he can be at his sport. I think he’s got much more incentive to want to win now than he would have if he hadn’t been attacked. If I were him, I would want to prove that I could be better than anyone else, no matter what anyone said to me._

_Now, moving on…_

_Ladies’ Singles_

_1) CAN Kacey Osmond_

_2) RUS Mila Babicheva_

_3) RUS Oksana Shavlyuvek_

_4) ITL Sara Crispino_

_5) USA Allison Scheffel_

_6) JPN Tomoe Nagasu_

_I don’t have as much to say about the Ladies, but I am pretty certain that the win will go to Osmond for the second year in a row. Osmond has only grown stronger, and her win at 4CC had a higher score than Russia’s Babicheva’s did at Europeans. The real question is who’s coming in bronze. I’m picking Shavlyuvek over Crispino because, even though Oksana trains in Sochi and Viktor trains in St. Petersburg, I feel like the entire Russian National Team is going to be pulling out all the stops this Worlds. Scheffel has caused quite the splash in American skating, broke the national record back in January at US Championships and took silver at 4CC, but this is her first senior-level Worlds, and I am certain that the pressure will get to her and she won’t take higher than fifth._

_I’m only going to put my podium picks for pairs and ice dance, because it’s late and I’m tired._

_Pairs_

_1) RUS Anna Getmanskaya/Dmitri Vasiliev_

_2) JPN Haruka Mihaya/Sousuke Kurohara_

_3) FRA Zulmée Bastoche/Mathieu Dribault_

_Again, Russia is going to be on point. Getmanskaya/Vasiliev are rinkmates of Viktor, and I believe that they will be out for blood. Mihaya/Kurohara have home field advantage, so while normally I wouldn’t expect them to go higher than bronze, I am expecting them to hit silver here. AND THAT FRENCH TEAM, THEY DESERVE TO WIN!!! They will probably be able to take bronze, but my god. They deserve to win._

_Ice Dance_

_1) JPN Michiko Higurashi/Kaname Natsuki_

_2) RUS Alina Osmanovic/Timur Scherbakov_

_3) USA Annabeth Donohue/Dennis Callaway_

_Russia may be out for blood, but not only are the Japanese team current world-record holders, they are also playing on home court advantage pretty hardcore. Higurashi and Natsuki are both Tokyo natives, born and raised in the city, where they both train and attend university part time. They are almost guaranteed to take gold here, especially after being forced to withdraw from NHK Cup due to an injury earlier this season, causing them to lose their chance at a repeat GPF gold. The GPF gold went to Donohue/Callaway, and I believe they will be able to pull into third this time around._

_So that’s it with my predictions! Competition starts on March 28 and ends April 2. I’ll probably be tweeting the whole thing, so don’t forget to follow me @tooflyforasitspin over on Twitter!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday is my birthday!!
> 
> I am going to be taking a break from posting, because while I don't know how I've managed to keep up until now, I have finally caught up with myself with this story. I have the end of the semester coming up, three large papers to write, and I want to take the time to write the end of The Shortest Days properly before I begin posting it. Also, it is very up in the air where I will be this next week (staying in Mass? Going to PA? It's a holiday this Thursday in the US, plus my birthday is Monday, plus my sister's Golden Birthday is on Friday), so I don't know what my schedule is looking like. I'll try to be back by the end of the month!
> 
> I'm thinking there will only be at most ten more chapters, probably only eight or nine if I stick to the outline I scratched out yesterday.
> 
> And honestly (like the mini-hiatus I took for the FOB concert) this is a good place plot-wise to take a step back and breathe. Viktor is finally out of Russia!!! The story is almost over!!!
> 
> But! I definitely have a plan for a part three. If you're subscribed to the story and you want to be sure that you don't miss the start of part three, make sure you also subscribe to the series before this installment is done.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK, BITCHES
> 
> Almost. My WiFi situation has been incredibly shoddy since about a week before Christmas and won't improve until about a week from now. Right now, I am using a personal hotspot created by my dad's work phone, because that's how we holiday in my family, I guess. I am going to probably wait until after I get back home before I start posting regularly to the end and diving into (my long-anticipated) part 3.
> 
> In case you forgot, in the last few chapters:
> 
> 1) Viktor was jumped by homophobic thugs  
> 2) Pres tried to roofie the freshman  
> 3) Yuuri skated to Limp Bizkit and fulfilled all of my inner dreams  
> 4) Everyone got on planes to Tokyo

**March 26, 2016, Mid-Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

Viktor groaned and clutched his pillow tight over his head, trying to block out the light from the window and the gentle knocking at his door. When the noise persisted, he rolled over and yelled toward the offender, “Go away; I’m still asleep.”

“Viktor, darling, you know I don’t speak Russian,” Chris’s voice came muffled through the door. “We can’t check in until three this afternoon; get up and come sightseeing with me.”

“Fine,” Viktor said. With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the bed. Without bothering to pull any clothes over his black briefs, he crossed the hotel room and opened the door.

Chris slipped into the room, followed by his partner. “Morning,” Mássimo said. “Sorry to wake you.”

Viktor shook his head and began digging through his suitcase. “It’s fine. Just let me put on some pants.” He tugged a pair of jeans on over his legs and pulled a black v-neck tee shirt over his head while the Swiss couple waited. “Did you have specific plans?” he asked.

“I thought something dog-friendly,” Chris said. “Where’s Makkachin?”

“Quarantine,” Viktor said as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled socks over his feet. “They said they’d be willing to expedite the process, but that it would cost extra. I paid, of course, but it’ll still be until after Worlds that I can pick her up.”

Chris whistled. “How much was it?”

“A lot,” Viktor said. “I think they would've let me bring her through if I’d given them enough money, but then I thought it would be best for the competition if she were taken care of and I could focus on the skating.  Hopefully, I’ll have her back in time to take her to Hasetsu.”

“That’s Yuuri’s hometown, right?” Mássimo asked.

Viktor nodded. “We’re leaving here on the fourth and coming back on the eighth to prep for WTT. It’s a little bit tight, but my stuff is supposed to arrive from Russia on the sixth, and we should be there when it arrives.”

“Are his family coming up here for Worlds?”

“Not that I know of. Yuuri said something about his old ballet teacher threatening to show up and using him to get laid, but I hope that was a joke.”

Chris chuckled under his breath. “Can you imagine someone like  _ your  _ old ballet teacher trying to hook up with a skater?”

Viktor froze, fingers loosely gripped onto the laces of his shoes, as the image of Lilia Baranovskaya seducing skaters flitted through his mind. “Stop, don’t even make me think about it,” he said. He shivered, then finished tying his shoes. “Mind if I text Georgi to join us?”

“Go for it,” Chris said.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ Breakfast and sightseeing with Chris+Mássimo? _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ {img} _

_ Anya and I will meet up with you later? _

 

Viktor showed the picture of Georgi and Anya leaning together over a stack of thick, fluffy Japanese hotcakes. “He said they might join us later.”

“Cute couple,” Mássimo said.

“Think it’ll last?” Chris asked.

“Georgi was talking about marriage months ago, so maybe. I don’t know, though. She’s allergic to dogs.”

“People are allowed to be allergic to dogs, Viktor,” Chris said. “It’s not a mark against their character.”

“But she wouldn’t even be near Makkachin, and Makka’s a poodle. Poodles are  _ hypoallergenic _ dogs. It’s not damning evidence, I know, but…I think Georgi can do better. He deserves someone who loves dogs.”

Chris shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t press the issue. Viktor tugged his arms into his coat sleeves and slid his wallet into the inner pocket. Together, the three left the room, made their way to the elevator and rode it down to the ground level. With a bright ding, the doors slid open.

In the lobby, they passed Cao Bin and a much younger skater that Viktor recognized as the Junior World silver medalist, Guang-Hong Ji. He tried to remember how old the teenager was. Sixteen? Seventeen?  He’d be moving up in the coming season, and if Bin was retiring, then Ji would be set to take over the top spot in China. Viktor raised a hand to wave at Bin, who acknowledged him with a small bow.

Someone ran past him, and the breeze ruffled Viktor’s jacket. The person, in a star-spangled Team USA jacket, latched onto the young Chinese skater. “I think Yuuri is friends with those kids,” he said.

“They’re a lot younger, aren’t they?”

“About as much apart as he and I are, I think.” Just in case, he made a point to wave and smile at the teenagers. “I can’t remember the American’s name. Someone tell me, please.”

“It’s Leo,” a woman’s voice said behind them. “And I still wish he were skating for Mexico instead.”

“Ms. Espinoza,” he turned and shook the ISU representative’s hand, and Chris did the same. Viktor said, “Pleasure to see you, as always. Why do you wish he were skating for Mexico?”

“He has dual citizenship, and it’s rare for Latin American countries to be represented in this world. I’m not going to begrudge him the decision, of course. He’s reached this level in one of the most competitive countries in the sport, so I can’t say that he’s doing poorly.” Espinoza placed a hand lightly on Viktor’s shoulder. “I processed that form you sent in.”

“Thank you,” Viktor said. The medical disclosure form, with signatures from Sharon, Yakov, himself, and an FFKK representative—the first form had been tedious enough, but the second one signed off by the doctor in St. Petersburg who’d prescribed the painkillers had been frustrating to get in.

Espinoza pulled her hand away from his shoulder, tucked her thumb into an invisible pocket in her slacks. “Good luck to both of you, gentlemen,” she said. With a quick pivot on the balls of her feet, she turned and headed toward the elevators.

“That was a little strange,” Chris said. “ISU people don’t usually talk to me in the hotels. What form was she talking about?”

Viktor glanced over his shoulders. “The ones that say I’m taking prescriptions and not doing illegal drugs,” he said. “I had to submit two of them, but the second wasn’t ready until shortly before I flew out, and Yakov had to take care of it for me. And I think that she’s nice. I’m glad she let me know that they got everything in time.”

“If you say so,” Chris said. He opened the door to the street, allowing Viktor and Mássimo to pass through before following after. “Let’s see what hell we can raise at this time in the morning.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 26, 2016, Late Night – Tokyo, Japan**

“Now, I can tell you’re from Kyushu.”

“ _ Hai _ ,” Yuuri said. He yawned into the back of his hand. Their flight from Seoul had left three hours late, causing them to get in three hours late. By the time Celestino had gotten through customs, it was already nearing eleven o’clock at night. All Yuuri wanted to do was collapse into a hotel bed, take his meds and wake up seven to nine hours later. Small talk with the cab driver was not high on his list.

“What about your foreigner friends?”

Yuuri wanted to cry. “We’re here for the figure skating championships,” he said.

“Oh?” The cabbie’s energy picked up even more. “I’ve been hearing about that on the radio. A lot of people think this’ll be the year for us. Did you know that that Russian skater was attacked? They said it was sabotage on the radio, probably the Chinese or the Americans.”

“ _ Iie _ ,” Yuuri said. “They were Russians. It was political.”

The cabbie shrugged and merged onto a six-lane highway. “I don’t really follow the sport at all, so I don’t know. Just what I hear on the radio. I hope he’s okay, but it would be nice for one of our guys to win it, don’t you think?”

Yuuri nodded, then remembered that the cabbie couldn’t see him. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

“You’re competing?” he asked. “Are you Katsuki-kun or Minami-kun? Those are the two we’re sending, right? All I remember is the names and that they’re both from Kyushu.”

“Katsuki. Minami-kun is much younger than me.”

“Well, Katsuki-kun,  _ ganbatte kudosai _ .”

“ _ Arigatou _ ,” Yuuri mumbled. He yawned again, slightly louder, hoping that he was being just rude enough to end the conversation.

The cabbie took the hint, and the rest of the ride to the hotel passed in silence. Phichit dropped his head onto Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri leaned his own head against Phichit’s. When the vehicle finally slowed to a stop, Yuuri jolted awake. He passed the cash to the driver, who helped them unload their luggage from the trunk. Yuuri stretched before grabbing the handle of his suitcases and following Phichit and Celestino inside.

He was barely through the door when he saw Viktor sitting in the hotel lobby and flipping through the pages of a magazine. The Russian skater looked up, locked eyes with Yuuri, and tossed the magazine onto the low coffee table in front of him. They ran, though only about a half dozen steps each, and when they met, Yuuri dropped the suitcases in order to throw his arms around Viktor’s waist.

Viktor squeezed Yuuri around his shoulder, tightening his grip until Yuuri tapped his back. “I missed you,” Viktor said as he took one step back. With his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can do for you—”

“Me, too. For you. I, um…Vitya…please stay with me…until you can bowl to three hundred…”

“Yuuri! That’s no fair; I’ll  _ never  _ be able…oh. Oh.  _ Oh. _ That’s…” Viktor took one of Yuuri’s hands and kissed his knuckles. “That’s almost like a marriage proposal, you know.”

Yuuri laughed and pulled Viktor into a second hug. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m really tired, and I think I need to sleep. I’m saying silly things.”

Viktor leaned his face on the top of Yuuri’s head and pouted, and Yuuri could feel the frown in his hair. “Are you saying that wasn’t meant to sound like a marriage proposal?”

This time, Yuuri stepped away from the hug. “Oh, no. Marry me, Vitya. Definitely marry me. Just not tonight, because I want to get some sleep. Let me go help Ciao-Ciao check in; I’ll be right back.” As he pulled away from Viktor, he noticed that Phichit was filming them. He shoved his friend’s shoulder on his way past and met Celestino at the desk.

“Everything okay, Coach?” he asked. He bowed slightly to the woman at the desk, who was typing something into her computer.

She ran four plastic cards through a reader, then tucked them into a tiny folder. “Here you go,” she said in English as she passed the keys to Celestino. “Room 315. Welcome to Tokyo.”

“ _ Arigatou _ ,” Celestino said with a bow. Yuuri followed him away from the desk to where Phichit and Viktor were standing together. Celestino handed them each a key card. “These are to 315. Hi, Viktor.” He gave the skater a quick hug. “What room are you in?”

“I have 537.” He pulled two more key cards from his pocket and handed one to Yuuri. “This is for you.”

Yuuri took the card to 537 and put it in his right pocket, then put 315 in his left. “Vitya,” he asked, “do you want me to come with you or stay with Phichit and Celestino?”

“Me,” he said. “Definitely come with me. I miss you.”

“I’m not having sex tonight,” Yuuri said. “Just so you know. I’m taking my meds and going to sleep.”

Viktor blushed. “Okay. Well. Um. Good choice?”

Yuuri yawned again, stretched his back again. “Sorry, I think I just hit no filter. Sleep time now, right? Sleep. Lots of sleep.”

Viktor grabbed the handle of Yuuri’s larger suitcase and pushed the carry-on towards Yuuri before wrapping his free arm around Yuuri’s waist. “Let’s go, then, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

Yuuri leaned into Viktor, barely aware of the world as they rode the elevator up. At the third floor, he waved goodbye to Phichit and Celestino. At the fifth, he followed Viktor through the hall and around a corner until they reached number 537. Once inside with the door closed behind them, Yuuri fell on Viktor’s lips, pressing him body to body until Viktor had backed up into the wall. Viktor moaned back against him, pressing tongue to tongue to the roof of Yuuri’s mouth, and they could both feel the other’s erections growing through their pants.

“Woah, hey,” Viktor pushed him away for a second. “I thought you said you didn’t want to have sex tonight.”

“Changed my mind,” Yuuri said. “Is that okay?”

Viktor nodded. “Of course,” he said. He pulled Yuuri’s shirt off over his head, then threw his own into the same corner of the room. “How are we doing this, then?”

“Don’t care,” Yuuri said. “You choose.”

Viktor paused for a moment before dropping to his knees in front of Yuuri’s body. “In that case,” he said. “I want to start here.” He tugged at the elastic band of the black sweatpants before tugging them down to Yuuri’s ankles. Through the blue cloth of Yuuri’s boxers, Viktor inhaled the deep musk of Yuuri before pulling them down as well. He wasn’t completely hard yet, but as Viktor rubbed his thumb over the slit and along Yuuri’s shaft, it grew. With his eyes turned up toward Yuuri, Viktor swallowed him down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 27, 2016, Very Very Early Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

Viktor’s phone pinged with a notification, waking both him and Yuuri. Yuuri groaned, rolled away from the light and began feeling around the bed for his missing face mask. Viktor blinked and focused on the screen, saw the time was 4:12 in the morning. He opened the notification, a news alert, then sat up in bed, pulling the covers with him.

Yuuri, naked and shivering at the sudden loss of insulation, sat up and leaned against Viktor. “What’s going on? Phi didn’t post that video of us, did he?” Viktor shook his head and tilted the phone screen so Yuuri could see. He read, “Russian volleyball team, speed cyclist caught using performance enhancing drugs, banned from upcoming Rio Olympics. Alpine skier banned from next week’s World Championships. Vitya?”

“So, there’s this program,” Viktor said. “State-sponsored support program for athletes. Yakov won’t participate, won’t let any of his skaters even think about joining. I can’t say for sure, but they seem to push steroids on athletes. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“Gross,” Yuuri said. “They do realize that those things do more harm to your body than good, right? Why would Russia push that?”

Viktor shrugged. “I think it’s because of the Olympics. In 2010, I only brought home a silver, and we came in tenth in the medal count. It’s really unacceptable, you know. For Russia. Especially in winter sports. We are born from the ice with vodka in our veins, after all.”

“ _ You _ don’t cheat, though.”

“Never,” Viktor said. He kissed the top of Yuuri’s head. “As someone very important to me once said,  _ only fuckheads dope _ . He was quite right, you know.”

Yuuri took Viktor’s phone from his hand and muted all notifications, then shut off the alarms. He locked the screen and placed it on the end table on his side of the bed. “Good,” he said. “I’m cold, though. Your fault.” He laid back down on the bed and tugged on the top of the blankets.

“Sorry,” Viktor said. He flopped onto Yuuri’s stomach and felt his bare skin warming at the touch. He kissed his lover slowly. “Let me warm you up.”

They kissed until they were both aroused, then Yuuri flipped Viktor onto his back. He left a careful trail of kisses down the center of Viktor’s torso, ending at the soft edge of his pubic hair. With a teasing breath blown at the base of the shaft, Yuuri flipped his body around and thrust his pelvis toward Viktor’s face. With Viktor’s hands on his ass, he wrapped his lips around the head at the same time he felt the flick of Viktor’s tongue in between his cheeks.

Yuuri came first, Viktor’s tongue deep inside and his hand around him. He collapsed into his own semen, kept sucking until Viktor was shooting down his throat. He swallowed and pulled off, let his face rest on Viktor’s thigh. “Fuck,” Yuuri said, throat raw. “Can we do that again?”

Viktor sighed. “Give me like a half hour.”

“They’re gonna flip if we skip morning practice,” Yuuri pushed himself off the bed and into the bathroom. He came back with a warm, damp towel.

“You’re the one who shut off the alarms,” Viktor said. He used the towel to clean himself off before getting up to brush his teeth. When he came back, Yuuri was curled into fetal position and asleep. Viktor smiled, tucked himself around Yuuri, and pulled the blankets up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, a real solid thank you to the couple of folks who've dropped comments checking in on me over the past five weeks while I was doing the end of semester hell and having shitty WiFi. Despite it all, and I don't know how, I managed to not only pass my classes but pull off a 4.0 semester. (What). This fic and this community were a huge part of making sure that happened, and I managed to include a section on YOI fanfiction in my queer theory term paper.
> 
> I finally got time to write this chapter after I finished my term papers, and I think I was affected by my queer theory paper (Let Me Be Explicit: Representational Fucking in Queer Fiction and Theory), because sex is a thing, and I wrote some of it in this chapter. Basically, I said that we need to talk about queer sex more when we talk about queer theory and queer activism. So then I wrote some queer sex. I'm not sure that it's something I'll ever do a lot of, but I challenged myself to be a little more detailed than I usually am, because I think that normalizing queer sex is just as important as normalizing queer love, and that things like fanfic are the places where that work is being done (I literally wrote a 20 page paper on it).
> 
> I'm in Portugal until the 4th, translating. So much translating. And not just English/Portuguese, either, because my relatives from Spain are here, so I am doing English/Portuguese, English/Spanish, and some Spanish/Portuguese translation. It's difficult.
> 
> Last night, my cousin Idalina got me drunk and I texted BluSkates and Denrhea a drunk history of Yuri!!! On Ice. I have screenshots. You can't have them. I will leave you with these [completely same in copy] quotes, though:
> 
> "They were like, you're fucking baller, can you do us a solid and maaaaaybe do a Lupin the Third anime"  
> "Sayo-chan, that beautiful woman, was like..."  
> "FUCK THAT SHIT MEN ARE DISGUSTING I ONLY CARE ABOUT WOMEN AND THEIR BRALESS TITS"  
> "So she directed The Woman Called Fujiko Mine"  
> "Which is WIDELY REGARDED as one of the best Lupin the Third animes of all ficción tuve"
> 
> \--two screenshots later--
> 
> "FIGURE SKATING ASSES"  
> "THEY BLEW HER FUCKING MINE"  
> "Mind"  
> "She was like, This And This Alone is as hot as Braless Tits"  
> "So she was like, SOME DUMB FUCK... i mean... SOME KIND AND WISE EXECUTIVE is gonna give me some money"  
> "And I will animate those glorious assess"
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!


	38. Chapter 38

**March 27, 2016, Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

Yuuri woke up naked, stretched, and reached for Viktor, but found the other side of the bed empty. A jolt of panic rocked through him, and he sat up. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, then heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. His diaphragm relaxed and he dropped back onto the pillow for a few seconds before getting up from the bed and finding his underwear where he’d left it. He pulled the boxers over his hips and tugged yesterday’s shirt over his neck, still smelling like the airplane. He didn’t want to be naked.

He crawled back in bed and squeezed Viktor’s pillow to his chest, buried his face in it. If Viktor was in the shower without him, it meant that they were either running early or running late, and Yuuri didn’t want to check to find out. They were probably running late, and even if it would be faster for them to shower together, they would probably get distracted, and Yuuri alone in a shower took less time than Viktor alone in a shower, so that was probably why Viktor hadn’t woken him up yet. He would shower first, then wake Yuuri, and Yuuri could still be showered and dressed by the time Viktor was ready to go. That’s how they’d done things in Detroit sometimes, so it wasn’t a leap to guess that Viktor would try to save time that way. If they were early, then Viktor probably just wanted to let Yuuri sleep. Probably.

Yuuri had needed sleep. He remembered the night before, he’d said he was going to take his pills and go to sleep. Then instead…he didn’t even remember if he’d taken his pills.

Had he taken his pills?

He groaned into the pillow before pushing out of the bed again. His pill box wasn’t on the end table, or on the desk. “Fucking great,” he said as he opened his suitcase and dug the box out. Four rows of compartments for Morning, Noon, Evening and Night, seven columns for the days of the week. He only took pills twice a day, so he’d relabeled it for Morning-Night/Morning-Night, and filled it every two weeks. He checked the first Saturday Night, and the pills were still there. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he said.

He unclicked the lid of the second Sunday Morning spot and dumped its contents into his hand. He swallowed them dry, trying to remember the half-life of the night time meds that didn’t repeat in the morning. Missing one night should be fine; he just hated to do it right before a competition, especially when he’d been so adamant that he was going to take them.

For not taking them, he still managed to sleep alright. At least he had that, even if he hated waking up naked and alone. He almost never slept without at least his boxers on, and waking up nude was still causing him some disorientation. The last time he’d woken up to no clothes and an empty bed…it had been well over a year ago, hadn’t it? With Pres.

He dug through his suitcase for toiletries and clothing for the day, zipped it back shut at the same time that the sound of the water shut off in the bathroom. Two minutes later, Viktor came in from the bathroom, wearing a hotel bathrobe.

“Morning,” he said, dropping a kiss onto Yuuri’s forehead. “I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.”

“I heard you in the shower,” Yuuri replied with a nod to the open bathroom door.

“What time is it?”

“Dunno,” Yuuri said. He looked for his phone, but when he found it, it was dead. “I really don’t know.” He plugged it in, watched the screen light up to  _ 0% Battery _ .

“It’s eight fifteen. Do you want to go back to sleep for another hour?”

They were early. “No,” Yuuri said. “I’ll just take a shower now.” He gathered his things and carried them into the bathroom.

“Hey, you okay?” Viktor called after him.

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, short and not fine. “I just need a shower.” He closed the door to the bathroom, looked at himself in the mirror, and splashed water on his face. A very thin, very patchy layer of stubble had pushed its way through his chin and upper lip, and the Yuuri in his reflection looked like some kind of pubescent child instead of an adult man. Carefully, he lathered his face and dragged a razor across his skin—he couldn’t afford any nicks this close to competition, and his hand had never been steady at this task. It was going to be a long day, and he was not fine.

 

 

 

They arrived at the rink early for public practice, fell into their pre-ice routine silently while waiting for their coaches and the other skaters to arrive. Yuuri kept feeling Viktor’s eyes staring, resting on him with a question that never quite reached his lips. They helped each other with stretches, nodded at their competitors as they began to slowly trickle into the locker room.

Yuuri checked his boots and blades for any problems before he laced up. Standing on the guards, he waited for Viktor to finish, then followed him at half a pace behind toward the door. Outside the locker room, there would already be reporters and fans looking to grab a sound bite or an autograph from Viktor, so he braced himself for the onslaught.

Viktor stopped before he opened the door, put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and whispered, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem really tense today.”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri said, shrugging out of Viktor’s hands. His skin under his clothes felt tight, too tight over his bones. “Just. It’s probably just competition nerves. It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Viktor said, “but if you don’t want to talk about it…”

“There’s not really anything to talk about. I’m just itchy. I’ll be fine.”

“Does it have anything to do with last night?” Viktor took a step closer, their foreheads almost touching. “I know what you said in the lobby about going straight to sleep, and then instead we…I’m sorry if I didn’t—”

“I already said I was fine, Viktor. Can you just leave it alone?” Yuuri snapped, loudly, as he took a step away. The background chatter of the other skaters stopped, and he felt them staring. He glanced hesitantly at Viktor’s eyes, saw the hurt clear on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered, eyes falling to the floor and shoulders collapsing in. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” Viktor said, also shrinking and stepping back. “You clearly don’t want to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you, so I shouldn’t have pushed. It’s my fault.”

“How is it  _ your _ fault if  _ I  _ snap at you?” Yuuri asked.  “You don’t have to blame yourself for  _ my  _ shitty behavior.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to think when you won’t talk to me?”

“I don’t know. There’s a whole plethora of options. Maybe Yuuri’s sick, maybe Yuuri’s anxiety is acting up, maybe Yuuri’s having a bad day and taking it out on others, maybe Yuuri forgot to take his meds after he said three times last night that he was going to take his meds and now he’s pissed off at himself, maybe Yuuri’s just a fucking asshole. I don’t know, Vitya, but for fuck’s sake, it’s not your fault that I’m pissed off.”

“You forgot to take your meds last night?”

“Clearly. Look, can we drop it now? I’m sorry I’m acting like an asshole.”

“Sure, fine. I just…you’re gonna be okay?”

Yuuri sighed and shrugged. He still felt irritated, still felt uncomfortable in his skin. He was angry at himself for missing his meds, but he knew that wasn’t everything. He guessed that Viktor knew it, too, but was willing to let it go for his sake.  _ Naked and alone _ . It was still bothering him that he’d woken up that way, exposed and raw. It wasn’t Viktor’s fault; it was Pres, the lingering scars of his grip on Yuuri. “I dunno, probably,” he said to Viktor.

He needed to talk to him later, eventually, about what had actually happened that night at the bar. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because of what Viktor had been going through in St. Petersburg, but now that they were in Tokyo together, he didn’t know how to bring it up. He wanted to be honest, to say that he’d been upset to wake up naked and alone because that’s how Pres would leave him, but he didn’t know how to talk to Viktor without Viktor blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault.

With a start, Yuuri realized that this particular frustration must be exactly how Viktor had felt these past few months every time Yuuri had talked about what had happened between him and Pres. He sighed. “Maybe there’s something else,” he said quietly. “I don’t…I’m not ready to talk about it yet. But soon.”

“Soon,” Viktor repeated. “Okay. Just, please don’t shut me out forever, okay? I’m not an expert on the many moods of Katsuki Yuuri. I can’t read your mind and make it better, and you know I’m not good with crying.” He pulled Yuuri into a hug, tight but gentle, and kissed the top of his head. “Just remember that I love you, okay?”

Yuuri nodded and tentatively returned the hug, then angled his chin to accept a soft kiss. Both looked in, toward the locker room, when they heard the other skaters cooing over their affection. Someone whistled—Leo—and a skater that neither recognized called out, “Gay!” The offender was swiftly elbowed in the gut by Leo, causing a murmur of laughter to ripple through the room.

Yuuri hid his face in Viktor’s chest. “At least we’re not in front of the cameras,” he said.

Viktor was frozen in his arms. “Yakov’s going to kill me. I forgot about them being there…Yakov’s going to kill me.”

Yuuri looked at the handful of skaters and turned all of his irritation toward them. “If any one of you mentions this to the press,” he said, voice low, “I will personally murder you and then haunt you at your own grave. You fuck things up for Vitya, and I will destroy you.”

Leo cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, Yuu. No one’s gonna say anything, right?” He patted the skater he’d elbowed on the shoulder, with an audible hit more forceful than necessary.

“Right,” the boy said.

Yuuri glowered at them for a few seconds longer before turning back to the door. “I want to get on the fucking ice,” he said to Viktor. “Let’s go?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 27, 2016, Early Afternoon – Tokyo, Japan**

Viktor walked out of the locker room and into the waiting press. This was the first time he’d been seen on the ice since the attack, and he knew he was about to get asked a mountain of questions. Yuuri would follow soon; they’d meet up at the hotel, order room service for lunch, head out for dinner in a different part of town after a nap. A quiet afternoon to settle Yuuri’s nerves, a quiet afternoon for Viktor to stretch his aching muscles.

“Mr. Nikiforov, how are you feeling after today’s practice?” First question, a female reporter with a British accent. Simple.

Viktor smiled, tried not to think about the fiasco at Europeans or the pain in his side where he still sported a purple and yellow bruise. “I feel good,” he said. “Very good.”

Another woman, hint of German, “Are you aiming for the top spot on the podium again this year?”

“Of course. Nothing less for Russia. We all aim for the top, though. That’s what makes it a competition.” He winked at the cameras.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” a man, American, that Viktor recognized as a retired ice dancer who’d done well in the 2010 Olympics. “You were recently injured, but your practice skate looked fine. Are you worried at all that your injuries might not be able to hold up to the stress of competition?”

Viktor’s smile wavered. “I’m just glad I can still skate,” he said. “That’s all that really matters to me. Obviously, I like competing and I like winning, but I don’t need either of those things as long as I can still get on the ice and move. When I…no, never mind, that’s…next question, please?”

“You’ve chosen not to press charges on your assailants?”

“Yes, that was my decision,” Viktor said. From the corner of his eye, he saw Yuuri leaving the locker room, flooded by his own flock of reporters, mostly Japanese. He waved when Yuuri noticed him.

French accent, “The assailants were shouting homophobic insults at you, and Russia, as a whole, is not known for being very hospitable to—”

“Those men expressed a message of hatred, and I’ve chosen to combat it with expressions of love and forgiveness.” Viktor quickly cut off the reporter. “Many of my fans saw footage of the assault, and I would like to communicate that not every Russian man is angry and violent, the way those three chose to be. I would rather believe that there are just as many kind and good-hearted people in Russia, or more, than those who choose hatred as a means to express themselves.”

A woman, another American, “Mr. Nikiforov, do you have anything to say in regards to Russia’s history of performance enhancing drugs?”

Viktor cleared his throat with a small cough and stretched a smile across his face. “I think you mean Russian athletes, not Russia. Not every athlete in Russia is doping; I’m certainly not, and none of my rinkmates are either. If there seem to be a higher number of Russian athletes testing positive than in other nations, perhaps our internal tests need to be updated, but it could also just be that we are a large nation. Russia is a very wide country, full of many different types of people, and I love my country deeply. I don’t always agree with my country, but I love my country and I love representing it in this way. Nikolai Gogol once said, ‘there is no word so perk and quick, which bursts from the heart with such spontaneity, which seethes and bubbles with such vitality, as the aptly spoken Russian word,’ and I agree. Now, I can take one last question.”

“Can you please define the nature of your relationship with Katsuki Yuuri?”

He laughed, slightly stilted and on the edge of annoyed. “Now, how is that anybody’s business but my own and Yuuri’s? I can say this, though. I owe that man my life. If you’ll excuse me.” As he walked away, he noticed Yuuri ahead of him, nearly jogging away from the crowds toward the door. Viktor jogged a few steps to catch up, called his name and placed his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri jumped. “Vitya—shit, you startled me.”

“Want to cab back to the hotel?” Viktor asked.

“Please,” Yuuri answered. “I’m really close to a freakout.”

Outside the rink, they walked two blocks away toward the heavier traffic. Viktor hailed a cab, and Yuuri gave the address to the driver. In the back of the cab, Viktor offered his hand to Yuuri, who interlaced their fingers and dropped their linked palms into the middle seat.

“You said you were close to a freakout?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri said. “Sorry. I’m a little more chill now that we’re out of the crowd. I’ll probably be fine. I’ve…it’s just been an off day. I mean, I yelled at you this morning.”

“But you landed your quad sow.”

Yuuri smiled. “But I landed my quad sow.”

Comfortable silence fell between them, and when the driver reached the hotel, Viktor fumbled around with his bills and coins until he’d accidentally tipped the man, even though tipping was just as uncommon in Japan as in Russia.

Yuuri followed Viktor to the elevator, and then to their room on the fifth floor. He placed an order for two salmon bentos to be delivered via room service, and when the food arrived twenty minutes later, he explained the contents of the boxes to Viktor. “Here, we have this kind of approach to food, where there should be a lot of variety with a meal,” he said. “So most traditional lunches will have several small parts to them, plus rice and a soup.” Viktor nodded along, and copied Yuuri’s approach to eating the fish with the chopsticks they’d been provided, flaking the meat into bite-sized pieces.

Once they’d eaten, Yuuri gathered their tray and placed it outside their door, then hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the nob. They showered together, slow and warm under the spray of water. Viktor washed Yuuri’s body first, massaging the tension from his shoulders and upper back, scraping his nails lightly through Yuuri’s dark hair along his scalp, planting gentle kisses on the base of his neck. Yuuri followed the attention by returning it to Viktor, kissed at the edges of his still-healing bruises, kneading his fingertips into Viktor’s temples gently. They kissed each others’ lips slowly, warmly, faces held just out of the way of the steady pressure of the water. When the water began to cool, they stepped out together, dried each other one at a time.

They dressed in soft pajamas, set an alarm for three hours out—just before they’d need to get up for dinner. Under the covers and with the lights off, they lay facing one another. “I think you should start training a new quad for next season,” Viktor said. He pulled Yuuri’s fingers to his lips and kissed each of his knuckles. “Maybe the lutz?”

“You don’t want me doing the flip?” Yuuri stuck his tongue out at Viktor, then pulled it back into his mouth quickly.

Viktor’s fingers grabbed at the air right in front of Yuuri’s lips. He traced along their curve with his thumb. “I’d love to see you land a quad flip.”

“Teach me when we get to Hasetsu. You know, I’ve tried it before. I fell on my face, but I tried it before.” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s thumb, then bit it.

“Ow!” Viktor shook his hand in the air, then cradled it near his chin. “When did you try the flip? I wish I’d been there!”

“To see me fall on my face? Fuck you, Nikiforov.”

“I bet it was a romantic gesture. You pretend to be all cool and ‘fuck you, Nikiforov,’ but inside, you’re just as much of a sweeping romantic gesture type guy as I am. Don’t think I don’t know you, Katsuki.”

Yuuri grinned and chuckled. “I guess you could say it was. I was really angry the other day, and I missed you, so I was practicing jumps and I just decided to go for the flip, because I missed you. Again, I fell flat on my face. Ciao-Ciao kicked me off the ice.”

“And that’s what turned into the ‘Break Stuff’ video?” When Yuuri nodded, Viktor shuffled closer to him, pulled both of his hands into his own and said, “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, but things kept happening. I assume it can’t have been anything good, but what happened with Lacrosse Man-Child?”

Yuuri froze, and a chill visibly passed through his body before he turned his eyes on Viktor. “More like Lacrosse Felon. Vitya…I…I’m still not ready to talk about it, but can you do me a favor?”

Viktor swallowed; Yuuri’s face had gone pale. He nodded.

“Please, if we fall asleep…this is going to sound stupid, but…if we fall asleep naked like we did last night, wake me up when you get up. It…I…when he…it just reminded me of him, waking up alone with nothing on…I didn’t like it.”

Viktor’s heart hammered in his chest. He’d left Yuuri asleep so that he could rest, hadn’t even thought about it as he showered and they’d gone through their morning. But Yuuri had probably been dwelling on this all day, since before Viktor had gotten out of the shower. Yuuri’s moodiness and anxiety, at least in part, really had been his fault. He pulled Yuuri into his arms, spooning him and holding him tightly. “Of course,  _ zoloste _ , I won’t do that again.”

Yuuri shivered again, then grew still. A moment passed before he said, “Oh, a new nickname. What does is mean?” He began tracing figure eights on Viktor’s forearm with his pointer finger.

“ _ Zoloste _ ? It means ‘gold.’ It’s a term of endearment…I think it fits you.” Viktor moved his hand at an odd angle in order to tweak Yuuri’s nose.

Yuuri bit at Viktor’s hand, but his teeth caught air. “Hmm…I like it. I should find a new one for you.”

“Well, if you want… _ Vitya _ isn’t the only diminutive out there for  _ Viktor _ . There are others that are for even closer relationships.”

“Such as?” Yuuri turned in his arms so they were facing again, chests flush against each other.

Viktor tried to catch Yuuri’s eyes, and ended up craning his neck backward in order to see Yuuri’s pupils, dilated and dark inside mahogany rings. “Well, no one has ever called me Vitenka…”

“Vitenka,” Yuuri said, low, and Viktor loved the way it sounded on his lips, his accent inserting an almost inaudible  _ u _ in between the  _ n _ and the  _ k _ . Yuuri leaned close to his ear, breath hot against the shell. “That sounds like something to save for sex, don’t you think? Vitenka?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo guess who's still in Portugal and not at home with her cat?
> 
> My flight on the 4th to Boston was cancelled because of the winter storm. I got rescheduled for...the 9th...I miss my cat. I want to go home. But I washed some of my dirty clothes and repacked my suitcase, and I am pretty sure they are not overweight, so that's good, right? I've only cried from stress like four times, and my dad gave me 60 euros so that I can get to the airport without having to lasso someone into driving me into the city. Doesn't change the fact that I was supposed to be participating in this really awesome event today and instead I spent all day trying to ignore my uncle rambling about how people are dirty and break things and think he's a hotel. (No one thinks he's a hotel. No one broke anything. Those things were broken when they got here. #hmpfh #crankyoldman). Don't get me wrong; I love my relatives, and I love Portugal, but...
> 
> I really am just ready to go home.
> 
>  
> 
> BluSkates, on Viktor's Russia comments: this is SUCH BULLSHIT!!!! Does he believe what's coming out his mouth?  
> Denrhea, on the same: I'm impressed that he pulled that quote out of his ass.


	39. Chapter 39

**March 28, 2016, Early Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Did you get a message asking you to do a random drug test before competition? _

 

Viktor froze with his toothbrush in his mouth to check the notification, spat into the sink and typed out his reply with one hand.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ No, but I did get one at GPF _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Anya got one, too. _

_ Nice bullshit in your interview yesterday, btw _

_ The only secret more open in Russian athletics than the doping is your sexuality _

 

He rolled his eyes at the phone. Anyone with half a brain could tell that he’d been lying through his teeth the day before, and that he was doing so specifically because of his sexuality. Someday, Viktor would be able to speak freely about the Russian government, its laws and its  _ encouragements _ . Georgi must be confident enough in Viktor’s future to begin treating the situation lightly. He rinsed his mouth out with water, dried his hands. With both thumbs available, he typed his reply.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ You wound me. I 100% love Gogol’s work _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ Let me guess _

_ You read “The Nose” once in middle school and “The Overcoat” in high school _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ I’m genuinely offended, Gosha. Genuinely. _

_ The 1835 edition of Taras Bulba is a work of art. _

_ Dead Souls? Perfection. _

_ Anyone who knows anything about Gogol is going to know he also said things like _

_ “Russia! Russia! I see you now, from my wondrous, beautiful past I behold you! How wretched, dispersed, and uncomfortable everything is about you.” _

_ Seriously. Dead Souls. Perfection. _

_ It’s what I cling to at night. _

 

Gosha. He’d gone with Gosha, and he hoped that Georgi wouldn’t mention it in offense. Georgi had become a close friend, close enough to call him on bullshit. Certainly, that meant he was close enough that Viktor could use a diminutive. He didn’t know why he was worried about it. Georgi had been calling him Vitya basically since he’d come back from Detroit, so he clearly wasn’t going to tell Viktor not to use one.

Viktor didn’t know why this was such a conflict for him internally, but he’d done it. He’d used a diminutive name for a friend. He hadn’t been close enough with anyone to do such a thing since he was a child.

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ You are full of shit. _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ Just like my comments on Russia. _

_ But seriously, I read!! _

_ Or at least, I did before I became Viktor Nikiforov _ _ TM _

_ I am counting down the hours until the end of WTT _

_ When I never have to say anything like that again _

_ And I can read a novel or something _

_ Novels are good _

 

“Vitya?” Yuuri called from the bedroom. “Have you seen my water bottle?”

Viktor slipped through the bathroom doorway. “Nope. Where have you looked?”

Yuuri was on his hands and knees, half under the desk. “I don’t know, everywhere?” He rocked back onto his heels and looked up at Viktor. “I don’t know where it is.” Yuuri’s voice sounded normal, but there was a warning shimmer in his eye that this could become a trigger fast.

Viktor remembered the stories of the Doraemon bottle before it had disappeared for good. “It’s got to be in here somewhere,” he said. “I saw you using it last night, and we haven’t gone out yet. Let me look a minute while you brush your teeth?”

Yuuri sighed, glanced around the floor once more. “Okay. Help me up?” Viktor reached down and pulled Yuuri up. He winced; there was a sharp pain below his chest. “Vitya?” Yuuri asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Viktor said as he massaged the tense spot. “It’s nothing.”

Yuuri glanced sideways at him while he walked into the bathroom. “If you say so,” he muttered.

Viktor rolled his eyes and checked his phone before locking the screen and tossing it on the bed. He dropped to the ground and began searching for the missing bottle.

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ You’re already in Japan. _

_ You could just burn it all down now and enjoy yourself during Worlds… _

_ Go on a fancy date in Shinjuku _

_ You know you want to _

 

He reached for the bottle, wedged between the end table and the bed frame. Even with all the lights on in the room, it had been almost impossible to see the dark blue plastic. He ignored another stabbing pain in his side. “Yuuri!” he called out when he finally pulled the bottle from its position. “I got it!”

“Really?” Yuuri appeared at the bathroom door, relief plain on his face. “I was a little worried about it,” he confessed.

“Yeah, it was stuck down here,” Viktor pointed. “But I got it.”

Yuuri chuckled. “My hero, I guess.” He stuck his tongue out at Viktor.

Viktor stuck out his tongue. “You’re welcome. Marry me someday?”

“That’s the plan. Not like I can marry Phichit, and he’s the only other person I know who puts up with my shit.”

“I disagree,” Viktor said. He pulled himself to his feet, then flopped back onto the bed. “I think we’re the only two people who  _ don’t _ put up with your shit, Yuu-tan.” He smiled as he reached for his phone.

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ More than anything _

_ But I promised Yakov _

_ After WTT, I can do whatever I want _

_ Oh, did I tell you that Yuuri asked me to marry him??? _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ WHAT??? _

 

_ To Georgi: _

_ Well, it wasn’t an official proposal…it’s kind of soon for that, I think… _

_ But he told me to marry him. _

_ And I just double-checked; he says that’s the plan _

_ After all, once WTT is over, I can do whatever I want ;) _

 

_ From Georgi: _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ Just don’t end up naked on top of any buildings… _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 28, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Tokyo, Japan**

 

{link}

**What the Fuck is Going on with Viktor Nikiforov? An Analysis of the Men’s Short Program**

First, let’s get this out of the way:

Men’s Singles, Short Program Results

  1. SWI – Christophe Giacometti
  2. RUS – Viktor Nikiforov
  3. KAZ – Otabek Altin
  4. JPN – Yuuri Katsuki
  5. CHN – Cao Bin
  6. CAN – Jean-Jacques Leroy



Congrats to Christophe for finally pulling the top spot in the same competition as Viktor, but I think even he has to agree that it’s a bittersweet victory. Chris’s SP was flawless, coming in at 107.39 points, his season’s best, and he deserves the praise and glory. However, Viktor’s SP hasn’t once scored below 109 before today, so we know that something is up. This is the first time in over two years of competition that Viktor hasn’t ended the SP in first place.

Official press release says he had a minor muscle spasm earlier in the day which, combined with the force of the jumps, aggravated a strained abdominal muscle that was still healing from when he was assaulted a couple weeks ago. The discomfort caused his PCS scores to be way lower than usual, and he only scored 104.07 (because even with a strained abdominal muscle, Viktor Nikiforov skates a technically perfect program, the bastard). When he finally made it to the Kiss & Cry, though, his resilience gave out, and he collapsed in pain and had to be treated by medical staff.

Here’s the question: did Viktor realize how injured he was and still skate anyway, or was he just poorly treated after getting jumped? I can’t figure it out. Footage from this morning all shows him looking distant and uncomfortable, and I’ve gone back through it several times now in order to fully analyze it. I think the initial spasm must have happened before he got to the rink, which leads me to wondering what he’s been doing in his down time that might have caused it.

What I find really interesting, though, is the way Viktor’s been talking about these injuries. Let’s recap what happened in the Viktor Timeline to get us to here:

  1. Viktor returns to Russia after spending several weeks training in Detroit
  2. Viktor is assaulted by homophobes, but is cleared to skate
  3. Viktor says in an interview “I’m just glad I can still skate.”
  4. Viktor says something about when he was younger, but stops partway



I can’t be the only person who’s thinking about the notoriously difficult to find interview with Tween Viktor where his response to his mother’s death is literally “I’m just glad I can still skate,” can I? What does this say about these injuries? What happened with Viktor’s mom back then? Why would he choose to say it this way, echoing his tweenaged self?

Of course, it could be nothing.

As a side note, Yuuri Katsuki chewing Viktor out for his dramatics and for not taking better care of his body made my life. If you missed it, cameras nearby picked him up as saying: “Viktor Nikiforov, I love you, but shut the fuck up, lay down and put that ice back on your fucking chest. Next time, fucking say something when you’re in pain and don’t act like a fucking moron.” Who knew that Yuuri-kun had such a potty mouth??

Speaking of Yuuri-kun, he’s moved all of his jumps around since 4CC. If he hadn’t two-footed the landing on the quad Salchow (which, let’s be honest, at least he didn’t fall flat on his face again), he’d probably be sitting in third right now instead of fourth. That Otabek Altin, though. I know he placed at 4CC, but damn. I was not expecting him to land in top 3 after the short program at Worlds, but here we are. Can someone say dark horse?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 28, 2016, Evening – Tokyo, Japan**

 

“Phichit-kun, we agreed no more live streams. What are you doing?” Yuuri’s voice picked up at the beginning of the stream.

“But Yuuri! Your followers! My followers! They’re all dying to know what’s going on with us here in Tokyo!” Phichit’s face, for a moment very close to the camera, pulled away, revealing a group of skaters in a private booth with a round table. Viktor sat on Yuuri’s left, with Phichit on his right. Next to him sat Leo de la Iglesia and Cao Bin. “Hi, fam!” Phichit waved at the camera. “Welcome to Tokyo! Today was the men’s short program, and guess what! Ya boy landed in the top ten!”

“Congratulations, Phichit,” Viktor said.

“Suck it, Leo!” Phichit said.

Leo sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re in ninth and I’m in tenth, Phi. I will beat you in the free skate.”

Yuuri groaned and looked at the table. “I hate live streams. Why. I did not agree to this.”

Viktor tickled Yuuri’s side, and Yuuri swatted at his hand. “Don’t mind him,” Viktor said. “He’s still in mama bear mode from earlier.”

“And you’re still in idiot mode from when you had a fucking muscle spasm in a previously injured muscle and didn’t tell anyone.”

“Touché. Anyway,” Viktor turned to the camera, “Yuuri ordered for us, which is exciting, because Yuuri knows food, and it was all so good, and I hadn’t tried anything similar before. We already ate, because last time we did a stream like this, the poutine got cold.”

“Yuuri ordered because Yuuri speaks Japanese,” Yuuri turned toward the camera. “And because Vitya can’t say anything at all, not even when he’s about to aggravate an injury.”

“Yes, I understand. I will tell someone next time.” Viktor shoved Yuuri’s side lightly. “You want me to learn Japanese?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Um.  _ Wakarimashita _ ,” Viktor said, uncertain. Yuuri narrowed his eyes in a slight glare, so Viktor whispered, “I learned it on an app.”

“That’s correct, isn’t it, Katsuki?”

Still glaring at Viktor, Yuuri said, “Bin-san is not wrong.”

“Okay!” Phichit interrupted. “I’ve got a flood of questions pouring in on Twitter for all of us, so we’re just going to pick and choose as they happen! Cao, are you really retiring after Worlds?”

“Yes,” Cao said. He sat straighter in his chair. “It’s time. I’m going to make the transition to ice shows and use the extra time to go back to school. I never finished university, so I would like to do that.”

“What were you studying before?”

“Physics. I thought it would be useful in application in figure skating. For a while, I was hoping to apply a scientific model to the axel and land it as a quad, and a computer simulation showed that it was possible, but I could never do it.”

“Quad axels are myths,” Leo said. “But, oh, I want to be a believer.”

Phichit coughed. “Can’t even land a quad toe.”

“Quad jumps are hard,” Yuuri said. “All of them. Triple axels are hard. And dangerous. If you think about it, we’re all really freaks of nature that we can do any of them at all.”

“You’re super full of sunshine today, Yuuri,” Leo said with a smile. “But thanks?”

“I think there’s too much emphasis on quads in the sport right now,” Viktor said. “When I was younger, I watched skaters chasing the quad toe and Salchow as something new to explore, how they could be combined, if they could be done as thrown jumps. None of the other jumps as quads had been ratified yet. The new scoring system was designed to balance out technical and performative elements, and to remove some amount of bias, but it favors technical skill over artistry, and at this point, if a man can’t land any quads, he can’t really compete at this level and hope to win consistently. I don’t know if that’s right.”

“That quad race was exciting, though,” Cao said. “Who’d land what first.”

“You’re still the only person jumping the loop,” Viktor said. “You ratified it that same season.”

Cao nodded. “I remember Christophe landing the lutz before you did, in the competition where you’d planned to unveil it.”

“He was so frustrated that he did the flip instead, and that’s how it became his signature move,” Yuuri interrupted, then blushed. He whispered, “I remember that, too. I was in my second year of Juniors.”

“Thank you for the fanboying,” Viktor said to Yuuri. He turned to the camera and said, “It was Chris’s senior debut. We’d made a bet on who could ratify a new jump first, and he won it because he skated first and I skated fourth in the same competition. Very unfair.”

“What did Chris win?” Leo asked.

“Somewhere,” Viktor said, voice low, “there is a picture of me dressed like an American rapper holding a sign that reads: I am Chrissy G’s Bitch 4 Eva. Number four, not the word. Chris was having his hip-hop phase. I was not. This was right before I cut my hair, too, so it’s a very uncomfortable picture.”

“Okay, Leo, question from my brain,” Phichit said. “How disgraceful is it to the hip-hop gods that Christophe Giacometti and Viktor Nikiforov, two of the whitest Europeans out there, did this?”

Leo hummed. “It’s…kind of funny, I think…retweet the question at Queen Latifah if you want to know what the gods would say. Ask another one from Twitter, Phi.”

“Okay okay. Yuuri, why are you so surly today?”

“What does  _ surly _ mean?” Viktor asked before Yuuri could answer.

“It means I’m acting like a bitch and we all know it,” Yuuri said. “Anxiety. It’s always anxiety. Next?”

“Aww, beeb,” Leo reached around Phichit to rub Yuuri’s shoulder. “Do you need a thundershirt? A weighted blanket?”

Yuuri glared at Leo and shrugged his shoulders until the younger skater stopped touching him. “Thundershirts are for dogs, and my dog is dead, thank you. And those weighted blankets are supposed to work, and yeah, I kind of want one. Too bad they’re like two hundred dollars.”

“Do you really want one?” Viktor asked. “I have a lot of money that I’m not using, you know.”

He placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Marry me, and you can lavish me with all the fancy weighted blankets you want. Until then, nope.”

“I don’t think you should have to wait that long for all that weighted comfort to snuggle with in your bed at night.”

“In that case, I’ll just steal Makkachin.”

“You haven’t even met Makkachin! She might not like you.”

“Is she a dog?”

“Yes?”

“Then she’ll like me. Dogs like me. Cats like me. The sting ray at the aquarium likes me. Animals like me more than people do, and I like them more than most people. Makkachin is the chief draw in this hypothetical fictional marriage situation.”

Viktor gasped and held his hand to his heart. “You’d marry me to steal my dog. I’m…not surprised, and not anywhere near as offended as I think I should be. Phichit,  _ your _ friend is trying to steal  _ my _ dog. What do I do?”

Phichit laughed. “Yuuri, your poster is trying stop you from stealing dogs.”

“Time for a new idol, I guess,” Yuuri said. “Maybe I can get an old Lambiel poster on eBay. Oh, better—Bin-san, do you have posters for sale? I am looking to replace about two-dozen, and the loop is a better jump than the flip anyway. Phichit-kun? What’s wrong?”

Phichit’s face had fallen. “It’s nothing, Yuuri, don’t worry.”

“Fuck you; that’s exactly how you make me worry. Is someone tweeting mean things at you? If you tweet mean things at Phichit, I will hunt you down, join your favorite MMO and slaughter you over and over again. Phichit is a precious child and Actual Teenager who must be protected.”

“You know that’s what your fans say about you, right?” Viktor said. “Besides the whole teenager thing? ‘Yuuri-kun is a precious cinnamon roll child who must be protected at all costs.’ It’s on your fan club’s home page.”

Yuuri ignored him. “Phi?” When Phichit didn’t answer, Yuuri snatched the phone from his hands. He froze for a second, color draining from his face, before he locked the phone and tossed it toward Cao. “Absolutely not. Never seeing that asshole again is too soon.” He looked into the camera. “Don’t date assholes. Never date assholes. This rule applies to gay, straight, whatever orientation. Don’t date assholes, and don’t be an asshole. I dated an asshole last year, and it was the worst decision of my life. Ugh. He just makes me want to destroy things. I hate him so much.”

“Katsuki?” Cao said. “Are you okay?”

Phichit said, “The lacrosse team that Yuuri’s ex plays for tweeted that they have a poster available from last season, if Yuuri wants it.”

“You dated a lacrosse player and didn’t tell me?” Leo asked.

“ _ Barely _ ,” Yuuri said. “Like, we weren’t even officially official. Like, he was never my boyfriend, thankfully. Just this over-exaggerated fling that made me feel like shit.”

“Damn, Yuuri. What did he do?”

“Rude shit,” Phichit said.

“Illegal shit,” Viktor added.

“ _ Abusive _ shit,” Yuuri said. “That’s probably him tweeting at us, which is just ugh. Fuck you, Pres. Racist abusive asshole. Go be in jail where you belong, and leave me the fuck alone. Seriously, I feel like I could tell him I was married to Neil Patrick Harris himself, and he’d  _ still  _ be trying to get with me, even though I know now how messed up things were when we were together. I tell him no, he keeps coming. I tell him leave me alone, he keeps coming. I tell him I’m seeing someone else, he says, ‘that’s okay, let’s be friends’ and keeps coming. Just. Ugh. Leave me alone, already.”

“And you were barely together.”

“I know! We were  _ barely _ together, and then I avoided him for like, a solid eight months, and then I pop up in the news with that ridiculous doping story, and he won’t leave me alone ever since. Ugh. I never should’ve hooked up with him in the first place. He’s terrible, and he’s not even my type at all, and he’s also really racist, and that’s a  _ problem _ for me. Like, seriously, Phichit, what was I thinking?”

“Umm…if I had to guess, I’d say, Patron and moan? But really, Yuuri, he took advantage of you. You  _ weren’t _ thinking. Sober Yuuri never would have started anything with him.”

“Fuck him. Or really, don’t fuck him. Calling all gay and bi dudes in Detroit area: do not fuck him. And don’t take drinks from him, either.”

“You are really angry,” Leo said, eyes wide. “Like, I have never seen you get angry before.”

“Dude, you should’ve seen him the day before we made the Break Stuff video,” Phichit said. “The man was a beast. He did a quad flip.”

Yuuri looked at the table and blushed. “I fell on my face and coach kicked me off the ice; it wasn’t that great.”

“Yuuri, I’m getting tweets to tell you that your fans are proud of you for getting out of an abusive relationship and to stay strong because you’re better off with your current…situation...”

“Oh. Um, thanks? I still feel like shit about the whole thing.”

“It’s not your fault,” Viktor said quietly. “He was taking advantage of you.”

“I know,” Yuuri said. He sighed. “This, by the way, is why I hate live streams. All the melodramatic bullshit comes to the surface and we never talk about fun stuff.”

“Noted,” Phichit said. He grew quiet, eyes glued to his phone. “Viktor, some people on Tumblr are like, obsessing over this Deadspin article that pointed out that you said to an interviewer almost the exact same phrase a couple of days ago about getting beat up by thugs as you did when you were a kid and asked about your mom dying?”

“ _ Phichit-kun _ , this is what I mean,” Yuuri said. “Why do you always find the sensitive topics when we do these things? Why can’t we just, I don’t know, talk shit about  _ Assassin’s Creed _ ?”

“You can’t talk shit about perfection, Yuuri,” Leo said. “Tell me you don’t want to cosplay Ezio, and I will show you your text where you said you wished you could afford that one on eBay that was four hundred dollars. Let Viktor answer the morbid question, because clearly your fans are obsessed with the drama.”

“Four hundred dollars is too much for one cosplay! Vitya, you don’t have to answer them, you know.”

“It’s okay,” Viktor said. “I hadn’t realized I’d done that. What did I say?”

“Something about being glad you can still skate,” Phichit read from his phone.

Viktor nodded. “Yes, well, I was severely injured both times, and very appreciative of my recoveries. Though, I think today showed that I’m not quite recovered yet. It’s okay. It’s nothing compared to what happened when I was twelve, after all. I was wheelchair-bound for over a month after nearly three weeks in the hospital then; this time, I didn’t even break any bones. I will be fine for the free skate. No practice tomorrow, but I will be fine.”

“What are you going to do if you can’t practice tomorrow?” Cao asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Viktor said with a shrug. “Probably stay in bed and watch anime all day.”

“That sounds more like Yuuri than like you,” Phichit said.

“Well, when in Japan…”

“Okay, first of all, I am not a NEET…yet. And if it were me, I’d spend all day playing  _ Hyperdimension Neptunia _ , but whatever. Anime. Sure. Be a trash weeb tourist.”

“Oh, but I’ll be your trash weeb tourist, and you’ll love it,” Viktor said, poking Yuuri in the cheek. He pulled his finger away when Yuuri reached to bite it, then looked past him toward Phichit. “I don’t even know what I just said. Phichit, what did I just say?”

Leo coughed. “Weebs. Like, westerners obsessed with Japan because of anime. Like my cousin Florencia. Like, when she saw my pictures with Yuuri from Four Continents, she asked me to ask him all sorts of really weird questions about Japan. I told her to chill and that I’d get her something from Akihabara while I’m here, so I still have to do that…Oh, and hola, Flor, ¿cómo estás? ¡Te quiero!” He held his fingers up in a heart-shape and smiled at the camera.

“Are we just going to ignore that Yuuri said he’s not a NEET  _ yet _ , as in, someday he will be?”

“Phichit-kun, I swear.”

“Okay, and on that note, I think that’s all the time my battery has on my camera, because I am a little shit who forgot to charge it. If you liked this, don’t forget to subscribe to those idiots at Viktuuri Skate Vids and follow me on Twitter and Instagram @phichit+chu. Catch you all later!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my updates are being sporadic! I want to say that I'll get back on a schedule soon, but I make no guarantees. I finally got home on the 9th, and I've been absorbing myself in Yu Yu Hakusho, my cat and Doctor Zhivago. I haven't seen another person in person in days, and I love it.
> 
> Fun figure skating facts! :
> 
> The quad toe loop was first landed in 1988 by Kurt Browning  
> The quad Salchow was first landed in 1998 by Timothy Goebel  
> The quad lutz was first landed in 2011 by Brandon Mroz  
> The quad flip was first landed in 2016 by Shoma Uno  
> The quad loop was first landed in 2016 by Yuzuru Hanyu
> 
> The only ladies' singles skater to ever land a fully-rotated quad in competition was Miki Ando with a quad Salchow in the 2002 Junior Grand Prix Final.
> 
> In this AU, the lutz, flip and loop were all landed in the same season, probably 2011-2012 or 2012-2013, long enough ago that the lutz could become Chris's signature jump and the flip could become Viktor's. In the anime, Morooka says at one point that Seung-gil is the only competitive skater who lands the loop as a quad, so I'm imagining that he's not the only one who *can* but the only one who's *active,* which is why I gave the jump to Cao Bin.
> 
>  
> 
> If you were Morooka, what kinds of questions would you want to ask in an in-depth interview with Viktor or Yuuri?


	40. Chapter 40

**March 29, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Tokyo, Japan**

Viktor sighed and leaned against the wall with Mila to his left. They were sitting in the stands, watching the rest of the Ladies’ SP. Mila was in the lead by over seven points, four skaters left. The girl on the ice, a sixteen-year-old from Canada, moved into her final pose, and the two Russians began clapping. While the skater moved off the ice to the Kiss & Cry, Mila pulled out her phone. While she scrolled, Viktor drooped his head onto the concrete.

“Hey, Viktor, have you seen this yet?” she asked while she angled the phone toward him.

He sat up and looked, then scrolled through the story without taking Mila’s phone from her hand. “Post your top Viktuuri conspiracy theory here…Viktor has…Yuuri is actually…Mila, what is this?”

“I don’t know, but it’s hilarious. Like, can you see yourself being secretly in the Bratva? Or Yuuri in the Yakuza?”

“We’d get eaten alive. Why did three hundred people upvote that I might have cancer? Is my hair really that thin?”

“I don’t think so,” Mila said. She ruffled his hair with her fingers. “Seems normal to me.”

Viktor straightened his hair back into position. He checked the time on his phone, saw no new messages. He sighed, disappointed but unsurprised. His friends were his competitors, after all; they would all be busy preparing for tomorrow’s free skate. “I should be practicing.”

“You should be soaking in a hot tub and not stressing your muscles. Besides, you had the time to watch my competition. That makes me happy. Where do you think I’ll end up?”

It was true, Viktor rarely watched the ladies’ short program, so this had been refreshing. “First or second. You’ll be set up to take the gold either way. Unless someone else has a record-breaking performance, you should take it.”

Mila’s grin widened into a genuine smile. “And if I get a triple axel for next season…”

Viktor nodded. “If you land it reliably and your other jumps don’t suffer for it, yes.”

“So, when are you going to help me?”

“Hmm…” Viktor tapped his lip. He glanced around them in the stands, then leaned into Mila’s ear, whispering, “You’ll have to come to me. I won’t be in St. Petersburg.” The redhead nodded, and Viktor frowned. Leaning away again, he said, “Maybe in May? We could work on it for a couple of weeks before training gets too intense.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.” She turned her attention back to her phone, refreshed the thread she’d been looking at before. “Ha, they sure work fast. Look at this,” she pushed the phone into Viktor’s face again.

Viktor nearly snorted; the newest comment provided a zoomed-in screenshot of the stadium, Viktor leaning into Mila’s ear. “But you’re ten years younger than me. And I’m g—” he cut himself off.

Mila grew quiet for a moment before she reached an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to say it. But um, sometimes I wonder if, maybe a little bit, me too? I might be a little like how you are. Only the opposite? I don’t really know what I’m saying. I’m probably wrong. I mean, I have a boyfriend and all…it’s actually really confusing…”

Viktor stiffened, then pulled Mila into a tight hug. In the distance, he could hear applause for the skater currently making her way to the Kiss & Cry. “Thank you for sharing with me. If you…I’m not very good with this, but Yuuri—he is. If you need to talk with someone. Or, I made some friends in Detroit…”

“I don’t really know him,” Mila said as she broke the hug. “I’ve only talked to him a couple of times. I know he’s not, like, actually rude, but he’s always seemed just…unapproachable? Sorry. I know that’s not exactly right. I know he cares about you.”

“You can come to dinner with us, if you want. Yuuri has a hard time opening up to people and with being in large groups, but in a small group, he’s amazing company. I promise.” Viktor pulled out his phone.

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_I’m gonna bring Mila to dinner, ok?_

 

“I don’t want to interrupt or anything,” Mila said.

“It’s not like we were going out privately tonight,” Viktor said. “As far as I know, Phichit is coming, too.” His phone buzzed.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Phi wants to karaoke_

_kill me now fucking ugh he wants a huge group_

_Tell her to bring a friend_

_If there are enough people, maybe no one will notice if I ditch early?_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_You have a lovely voice, though!_

_You wouldn’t deprive me of the chance to hear it, would you?_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Vitya be real._

_I barely keep it together for competitions, and I’ve had almost two decades of training in figure skating_

_The best I can say about my singing is that my shower has never slaughtered me._

_Maybe if it was just you and me_

_Or if I were drunk_

_I can do anything drunk_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Can and Should are different things_

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_I’m sober. Super sober. Very sober._

_I have never once had an alcohol problem_

_Never been in a bad situation because of alcohol_

_Never even ever been drunk._

_Never._

_Drunk Yuuri does not exist_

_I have no memory of this place._

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Reference!_

_I found one!_

_Lord of the Rings._

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_10 points to Hufflepuff._

_Anyway, the more people come, the more cloud cover I have to get out of singing._

_So tell her to bring a friend._

_Anyway, I’m on my way back to the hotel._

_Results from the ladies?_

 

_To Yuu-tan:_

_Still the Italian girl left to go._

_Mila’s in first._

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Sweet tell her congratulations_

 

Viktor turned the phone toward Mila, and she read the congratulations message. “Tell him I said thank you,” she said, then she blushed. “He’s um, still texting you,” she nudged the phone back toward Viktor.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Sara might come out on top, she’s really good_

_I like her. We hung out a couple times last season._

_Michele is kind of a jerk, though_

_Called me a pervert_

_I can’t tell if it’s cuz I’m gay or cuz I was talking with Sara, though._

_Like, I can’t tell if it was sexism or homophobia_

_He’s her brother, not her captor._

_{_ [ _img_ ](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/vampirediaries/images/c/c9/Kermit-The-Frog-Tea-Meme-02.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20160301185328) _}_

 

Sara Crispino took the ice. Viktor felt Mila shift and lean forward in her seat, eyes trained on the olive-skinned woman. He tried to remember Sara’s track record, but couldn’t quite recall her wins or losses. He really ought to pay more attention to the ladies’ bracket if he was going to get involved with Mila’s training, even if only a little bit. Sara was good, very good. He found himself catching his breath after a triple-triple combo, flawlessly executed. He worried for Mila, but when he glanced her way, she was enraptured by the performance, adoration clear on her face.

The Italian finished her routine, one arm reaching toward the sky. As she made a loop around the rink, she bowed and plucked a stuffed animal from the ice. In the Kiss & Cry, she received her scores.

“Don’t worry about it, Mila,” Viktor said. “She’s only ahead by one and a half points. You can overtake that easily.”

“Did you see that, Viktor? She’s so perfect. I just love her so much. I don’t even care, that’s how perfect she is. Like, it’d be nice to win, and I want to win, but Viktor. It was beautiful. She’s beautiful.”

 _Oh_ , he thought. _Mila has a crush on Sara Crispino_.

“Why don’t you invite her along with us tonight?” he suggested. “Yuuri did say to tell you to bring a friend.”

“Do you think she’ll come?”

“She’s friends with Yuuri, so I don’t see why not.”

Mila stood up and pulled Viktor to his feet. “Okay, why not. We’ve hung out before. It’s not gonna be weird or anything.”

“Just tell her you need to bring another girl along, since I think it’ll be mostly men.”

“Right. Ok, yeah. This is going to be fun. What are we doing again?”

“Karaoke.”

Mila smiled and jumped up and down. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Watch out, Viktor. I am a serious vocalist when I want to be.”

Viktor laughed. “I don’t doubt it.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 29, 2016, Late Evening – Tokyo, Japan**

Yuuri shrugged himself into the back corner of their private karaoke room, hoping that in the dim blacklight, the people around him would forget he was there. Viktor wouldn’t; he already had a laser-sharp focus on Yuuri, which would prevent Yuuri from escaping completely, but perhaps the others wouldn’t notice his absence if he disappeared first into the sofa and then into Tokyo and back to the hotel.

“Yuuri, help!” Phichit bounced over to him, grabbed his wrist and pulled. “We need you to set the machine to English.”

With a sigh, he looked at the screen and found himself on the song selection list, with a warning for explicit content lit up over top of the selected track. “How the hell did you get _here_?”

“I might have overestimated my ability to read Japanese,” Ji Guang Hong said. “Leo said I should just go for it, since you looked so comfy over there.”

“It’s not my fault we have three alphabets.” Yuuri clicked out of the explicit track, and found his way back to the home screen. He clicked into settings. The British flag appeared on a list of icons, and he selected it. “There. English.”

“Do you want to go first, Yuuri?” Phichit asked. “Since you’re already up here, and everything?”

“I’d rather die a thousand times.”

“Awe, come on,” Leo clapped him on the back. “If you sing one now, we won’t make you sing another.”

Yuuri looked their group over. Phichit, Leo, Guang Hong, Lee Seung-gil. Viktor, Chris, Mila, Sara Crispino, and Michele. He had bristled when both Crispino twins had arrived alongside the Russians; Sara was nice, and he’d enjoyed the times they’d hung out before, but Michele made him uncomfortable.

He shook his head and cast his eyes toward the ground, away from his friends. “I’d really rather not.” Yuuri had never much enjoyed karaoke, and even though he was friendly with almost everyone in the group, he only considered himself close with Viktor, Phichit and Chris. Was he even close with Chris? Viktor was close with Chris, and yes, he’d known Chris longer, but at this point, was Chris only tolerating him because of his relationship with Viktor? _No_ , he shook his head again. That was a thought spiral he didn’t need to go down. Chris was his friend. Chris liked him. Leo was his friend. Sara was his friend. They wanted him here, to participate with them. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Michele, sitting next to Sara with a sour expression on his face. Yuuri looked away before Michele noticed him. He began scratching at his elbow, teeth biting into his lower lip.

“Okay, Yuuri, but if you change your mind, say something,” Phichit said.

Yuuri nodded. “Okay,” he said. With a deep sigh of relief, he slipped back to the corner of the sofa where he’d been sitting. He closed his eyes, rubbed his heels into his sockets for a moment, took a deep breath.

At the other end of the room, the younger skaters were still looking through the tracks. Leo cleared his throat and made a selection. “Okay, I’m going to start then. This song is my jams.” The reggaeton beat, unmistakable from the song’s radio play a couple years before, began, and the guitar filled the air. Even though the English lyrics displayed on the screen, Leo sang the original Spanish version of “[ Bailando ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUsoVlDFqZg).”

Yuuri laughed when Leo pulled Guang Hong’s hand and began spinning him, leading him in a soft dance. Leo had been relaxed and companionable at the three competitions they’d shared earlier in the season, but he was much happier right now. He was glad the Chinese skater had come as part of Cao’s team, and he couldn’t help but wonder if one day, their friendship might grow into something more.

The sofa cushion shifted under him as another person settled into the space to his right. Viktor scooted as close to Yuuri as he could and leaned against him. “Hey,” he said.

Yuuri sat up straighter so that Viktor’s head would be resting on his shoulder, and he kissed the center of his crown. “Hi.”

“Having fun?”

“Just deciding whether or not to matchmake my teenager friends with each other.” He nodded to the front of the room, where Guang Hong was now searching through tracks for the next number. He picked something, a pop song that Yuuri didn’t recognize, and took over the microphone. Very quickly, he was pulling Leo into another dance.

“Ah,” Viktor said. “Are they?”

“Full of chemistry? Clearly. I have no idea if they see it, though, or if they’ve even considered their sexualities. Who knows. Leo might be straight. I don’t know much about Guang Hong. I know that they’re not dating. Yet. Hopefully. I think they’d be cute together.”

“I think you’re cute,” Viktor said. “I really like that this is a private room full of our friends, by the way.” He turned his head and kissed Yuuri’s chin, then his lips.

Yuuri brushed his fingers through Viktor’s hair while he kissed him again. “Me, too,” he said. “Are you comfortable with this?”

“Mmhmm. No one here’s going to rat me out to the FFKK, and even if they did, the worst that could happen is that they have me step down from World Team Trophy.”

“But you love World Team Trophy.”

“Because it’s fun. But if that were to happen…I was thinking about it earlier today, and I think I would be okay. I don’t think I’d be happy, but I’m already here. It’s not like they can deport me for breaking laws that don’t exist here, just because they exist there.” He kissed Yuuri again. “So, I’m trying to desensitize myself to the fear of being found out.” Another kiss. “It’ll only be another two and a half weeks before all of this is in the past, after all.” Another. “I want to be ready to be out with you, in public, being a romantic couple.” Another. “And if that starts in a dark karaoke room surrounded by friends, then I want to kiss you more—” another “and more—” another “and more.”

The microphone squealed when Phichit took it from Guang Hong’s hands. “Okay, I’d like to dedicate this to the gays in the back.”

Yuuri groaned. “Oh God. Phichit, no.”

“Phichit _yes_. This is for you, Yuuri, and your decade-long Big Gay Crush on Wonderpants McLegend over there. With whom you are now sucking face.”

Viktor pushed himself upright and slipped his fingers in between Yuuri’s. “Why do I always get weird names?”

“And this is for Viktor, who just gave the Best Gay Speech I’ve ever eavesdropped on. You guys, they’re so enamored that they didn’t even see me go over there. Anyway, this is for you.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but then when the track began playing he laughed. “Really, Phich? ‘[ Love Today ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWiccrTB4LM)’? Really?”

“Shh!” Phichit said, then took a breath before singing.

As the Thai skater reached the end of his song, Viktor pulled Yuuri into a deep kiss. “I love you.”

Yuuri tapped out and opened a few inches of space between them. “I love you, too, Vitya. But, I mean, you’re being a lot more affectionate…no, not affectionate, that’s not the right word…how do you say when you’re being more like, ugh. It’s not _public_ , that’s not right. Kind of like _meihakuna_ , but not quite? Ugh. What is that fucking—you know what, never mind. It’ll come to me later. You’re being a lot more _something_ than usual. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You couldn’t find a word.”

“It happens.”

“Your English is so good, though.”

“It’s not perfect. You speak more languages than me; you should know how this feels. Anyway, don’t distract me. Are you okay?”

“Yuuri, I’m fine. Please. Let me marvel at this for a moment. I’ve been jealous of your English, you know. Are you going to sing?”

“No.”

“Are you still feeling as anxious as you were twenty minutes ago?”

Yuuri didn’t respond right away. Viktor had distracted him from his worries while also pushing his own limits in order for both to be more comfortable. He’d kept Yuuri’s attention on Viktor and Viktor alone, so much so that he’d nearly forgotten about everyone else in the room, even Michele Crispino. He looked at Michele now; the Italian was wrapped up in some kind of argument with Lee Seung-gil, another one of Phichit’s friends that Yuuri only knew in passing. He became aware of Mila’s voice singing in the background. “No,” he said eventually, during the lull after Mila finished her song. “I’m not as anxious as I was. Thanks.”

“Thank you, too,” Viktor said. “When I noticed you scratching, it flipped a switch in my brain that was like _protect Yuuri at all costs_ , and when that mode turns on, it really helps lower my inhibitions. And I wanted to be kissing you from the moment the lights dimmed, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it right away.” He kissed Yuuri again while Sara began to sing. “But I love kissing you, so I need to work on that. Anyway, Yuuri?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you sing if I pout?”

“Viktor. No. I’m not singing.”

“Please?”

“Why do you want to embarrass me so much?”

“I just want to hear you sing. Please?”

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll look. I make no guarantees. And I’m not standing up by myself,” Yuuri said. Viktor smiled. He bounced to his feet and pulled Yuuri up, then dragged him to the console. He held Yuuri in place while they both looked through the songs by artist. Yuuri was about to declare it a fruitless effort and go back to his spot on the sofa when he noticed a band on the list. He clicked into their name, and found a song. “I guess if it were this, I wouldn’t mind. I know Phichit likes this stuff, too.”

“I heard my name!” Phichit yelled, appearing by Yuuri’s side. “Did you pick one? Yay! Do it do it do it!”

“You guys are the worst and I hate you both. Fine.”

Sara finished her song and pushed the mic into Yuuri’s hands. “Please tell me you’re going next,” she said.

With a sigh, Yuuri took the mic. “Okay, so since we’re here at karaoke in Japan, which is about as stereotypical as ramen, I’m going to sing an actual Japanese song now, because fuck you all and your English pop. Except Leo. He gets a pass.” He clicked to play the track. “Anyway, it’s not karaoke without Vocaloids.”

Phichit jumped in delight when “[ Rollin’ Girl ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jduoacMkyTc)” began, but Yuuri ignored him. He ignored everyone else in the room and focused on Viktor’s ridiculous grin. In the blacklight, singing Miku Hatsune, with his eyes glued on his lover—that smile almost looked like a heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!!! So, I am going to aim for a chapter a week until the end of the story, more if I get more time to write. But we're in the home stretch already, really, honestly. I know it might not seem like it, but I still do very much so love this story. I guess the fact that I haven't been writing/posting as much is probably ultimately a good thing, since I was pouring a lot of my anxiety and depression into this fic last semester. I think it means that I've got those things under a better sense of control. I can proudly say that I am not dangerously suicidal, which hasn't always been true. Twenty chapters ago, I could not say that. This fic and this community really helped me get through that time, and I love you all for it. Now that I have less brain fog and more focus, I've been prioritizing grad school (I have to maintain my 4.0 if I want to maintain my fellowship, after all), but I am still dedicated to finishing this fic and (probably slowly) writing the third, and final, installment in the AU that I have been thinking about for months now. Like, seriously, it has been in my head for months.
> 
> Also, recently I got an idea for a cancer AU that was sparked by reading a cancer AU that really really sucked and I was left with a burning desire to correct it. (I sorted all the YOI fics in random different orders in order to find new fics, and this was an experiment and a half, lemme tell you). Probably not going to write it, though, because this AU is much more important to me.
> 
> In life update news, because I know you guys care about me and I love shouting into the void, I now have a girlfriend as of last week and have only received one homophobic message from someone telling me to turn back to God (I seriously thought there would be more; I guess time will tell), and I am getting two academic papers published. #yayacademia
> 
> Yes, the girlfriend loves Yuri!!! On Ice ;)


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said every week, and then the Olympics happened and I was too busy watching the Olympics on my computer to get anything done. #JAVIERFERNANDEZ

**March 30, 2016, Late Afternoon – Tokyo, Japan**

 

Viktor smiled and waved at the audience from the top of the podium. Never had the words  _ world record _ been quite so important to him, not since the very first time he’d claimed one. Chris stood next to him, silver medal held aloft to the cheering fans, and on his other side—Yuuri. The photographer came and motioned for them all to get together, and he pulled Yuuri up and into a tight hug. When he felt Yuuri tapping his shoulder, he pulled Chris into the hug as well. The crowd roared in his ears, roared over the words on Yuuri’s lips that he couldn’t read, roared over the rapidfire pulse of his beating heart, roared over the echo of that gunshot constantly in his mind. The crowd kept roaring, kept screaming his name, Yuuri’s name, Chris’s name. The crowd kept roaring.

They did a victory lap together. When they exited the ice, Chris pulled him into a hug and whispered something in his ears. Viktor couldn’t hear the words, but the feeling of pride, of happiness for a friend, reached his heart. He squeezed Chris back, kissed him on each cheek. Here was his best friend, a man who’d only asked to be shown how to help when Viktor had finally, finally—after so many years of friendship kept shallow—let him into the depths of his pain. Chris, he decided right then, would stand with him in his wedding. Whether it would be years from now or merely months, he would have Chris by his side.

Chris stepped away when his coach came with his jacket and his blade guards. Yakov soon handed the same items to Viktor. He snapped the guards into place and pulled the jacket on over his “Stammi Vicino” costume. Yakov was speaking, but the words didn’t process. He threw his arms around the old coach. Before he’d ever known Yuuri or Chris, or even Georgi, Yakov had been a constant in his life. Yakov had saved him time and time again. Even when his actions had been wrong, Yakov had dedicated himself to Viktor’s protection beyond what Viktor could even imagine. Viktor knew now, just a fragment, but enough—that Yakov had suffered so greatly in his own time and had only ever tried to spare Viktor the same fate. He felt a tentative hand patting his shoulder. Yakov had protected Viktor; going forward, Viktor would find a way to liberate Yakov.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Celestino talking with Yuuri. With a kiss to his cheek, he broke the hug with Yakov and threw another one around the Italian coach. “Spasibo,” he heard himself saying, words finally punching through his ears. He repeated it to ground himself, “Spasibo.”

Celestino patted his back; he was naturally paternal in a way Yakov wasn’t, soft where Yakov was hard. Viktor needed the hardness of Yakov, but he also needed the softness of Celestino. Viktor owed him so much for everything he’d done. “Congratulations,” Celestino said. “You deserve it.” And Viktor did deserve it. Celestino knew what he’d gone through, what he’d fought through to get here. When Viktor had needed a safe space, Celestino had welcomed him into Detroit Skate Club with open arms. Celestino would be the one mentoring him now, helping him build a future after competition. Yakov had protected him from the worst of possible harm, but he hadn’t escaped unscathed. Celestino had helped him put himself back together again.

Viktor felt a light tap on his shoulder and the sudden loss of warmth as Celestino let him go. He turned around and saw Yuuri two steps away. The Japanese man gave him a small wave and a smile, and Viktor loved him. Viktor loved his odd mixture of shyness and boldness, his polite exterior around fans and his penchant for American cussing. He loved his inner strength and his bravery in the face of his demons. He loved his occasional feminine flares, the blue jeans and the poodle-print phone case, the soft smiles at twilight, the way he rubbed his thumb over the back of Viktor’s hand. He loved his musculature and physique, the raw power of his arms and thighs. Loving Yuuri was simple. Loving Yuuri was easy. Loving Yuuri was right.

Loving Yuuri was where he belonged.

Loving Yuuri, he tossed himself across the short distance, let himself be caught by Yuuri’s waiting arms. Careful of his head, Viktor pressed his lips against Yuuri’s while his lover stumbled back a few steps, counterbalancing Viktor’s exuberance. He ran his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. He loved, he loved, he loved.

In the silence, he heard Yuuri’s voice. “Overt.”

“What?”

Yuuri pushed him away lightly. “That’s the word I was looking for last night. You’re being so  _ overt _ . Vitya, what are you doing?”

“I just—” The world caught up with him. The silence of the crowd, the shocked faces of their coaches, Chris. The cameras pointed at them. His ears began ringing. Swept up in the rush, the adrenaline of winning, the adrenaline of love,  _ what had he done? _ He stopped breathing, stopped moving, and as time slowed down, his heart stopped beating. What had he done?

He felt a hand on his shoulder, knew it was Yuuri. “I’m not mad,” Yuuri whispered. “Just concerned. Take a deep breath. Good. Viktor?”

Viktor shook himself. He should have waited. Two more weeks until the next competition—the last competition—and he was supposed to wait. But how could he? How could he wait any longer when loving Yuuri was the only choice right now? When loving Yuuri was the one missing piece to making his victory whole? When loving Yuuri was the most important of the many things that mattered? “I don’t care,” he said quietly, then louder, “I don’t care. Yuuri, I am done hiding. I’m in love with you, and I don’t care about the press, or the competitions, or the cameras. I don’t care about the government or the future or  _ anything _ right now. I love you. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Yuuri laughed and brought a hand up to his hair. “Well, it worked.”

“Vitya,” Yakov called, “knock it off; you have a press conference to go to.”

Viktor jumped and blushed. “Sorry, Yakov,” he said. He reached for Yuuri and swung his arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “Let’s go?”

“Are you going to make statements, Vitya?” Yakov asked as he led them toward the room where the press was setting up. “Tell me now one way or the other."

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked. “Do you want to make statements?”

Yuuri didn’t answer right away. “Not really,” he said after a pause. “But I think we’re going to have to.”

“Not necessarily,” Viktor said. “We could just act like ourselves without answering questions, if you want.”

“Our shipper fans are going to go nuts if we do that,” Yuuri said. “You know that, right? Do you want to make statements?”

“I think I do,” Viktor said. “I can’t bear the idea of waiting another two and a half weeks to do this. I know I kept talking about World Team Trophy, but really—I think I always knew that this would happen now, at least subconsciously.”

“How about this…you can answer whatever questions you want, and I can ignore them. Is that okay? Yakov?”

Yakov sighed. “I’m proud of you, Vitya. Don’t regret this.”

“Don’t worry, Yakov,” Viktor said before placing a kiss on Yuuri’s temple. “I won’t.”

They entered the press room together and took their seats. Viktor wanted to pull Yuuri closer, but he contained himself. He shuffled the chair closer to the table and stretched his arms above his head before fully settling into the seat. He took a deep breath. This was it.

“Mr. Nikiforov,” a reporter called out. “Can you talk about your displays of affection coming off the ice after the medal ceremony?”

Viktor smiled. “Yes, well, this is my last World Championship, and I believe I was overcome with emotion.”

“Are you retiring from competition?”

“Yes. Unless something unforeseen happens in the next two weeks, World Team Trophy will be my last competition.”

“When did you come to this decision?”

Viktor glanced at Yuuri. “I’d actually been planning on quitting after the Grand Prix Final, but Yuuri talked me into finishing the season.”

“Mr. Katsuki, this is your first medal at Worlds. Are you excited to have won that here in your home country?”

Yuuri smiled and nodded. “ _ Hai _ , I am very honored and humbled. I never thought I would be able to achieve this.”

“How much has your relationship with Viktor affected your skating?”

“Viktor has always affected my skating, long before we met. But working together in Detroit, a lot of what he did was help me gain confidence in myself and my jumps, enough to reorder them to capitalize on my natural stamina in order to increase the base value of my programs. I guess it became an unofficial trial run for next year?”

“Mr. Katsuki, what do you mean by that?”

Yuuri looked at Viktor. “Vitya?”

Viktor cleared his throat. “After a lot of discussion about what we both want for our lives and what would be practical, we’ve decided to keep working together. Since I’d already decided to retire, I’m going to be joining Yuuri’s coaching team alongside Celestino, who is going to mentor me as I make the transition from competitor to coach.”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “It just made sense. Celestino-sensei and I were hitting a bit of a wall, and Viktor helped me shake out of it.”

“Mr. Giacometti, how do you feel about your top competitor stepping away in order to train up your competition?”

“Hmm,” Chris said. He made a show of contemplation, placing his head on his hand and looking off toward the ceiling. “Honestly, I think it’s a wonderful idea, but I don’t think it’ll be long before Viktor decides he’s not really ready to be retired. No offence, darling.”

Viktor laughed. “No, I am done. I’m  _ old _ . I’m ready to move on.”

“So, you’re relinquishing the top of the podium to me?”

“I’m not going to make it easy for you, Chris. I’m choreographing for Yuuri, too, after all.”

“Mr. Katsuki, how do you intend to balance your personal relationship with your professional one?”

“Communication? Isn’t that how all relationships work, no matter who it’s with?”

“Mr. Nikiforov, could you please define the nature of your personal relationship with Mr. Katsuki?”

Viktor took a deep breath. He reached across the table for Yuuri’s hand, caught Yuuri’s eye. Yuuri placed his hand in Viktor’s and squeezed. This was it. He was… “We’re in a romantic relationship, yes. We have been for quite some time, now. And yes, I have always been gay.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
**March 31, 2016, Early Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

 

{link}

{ **2016 ISU Figure Skating World Championships – Men’s Medalist Press Conference** }

{icon image: Viktor and Yuuri holding hands, with Chris on Viktor’s other side}

607,049 Views

 

ISU Figure Skating

Published March 30, 2016

Video description:

Viktor Nikiforov, Christophe Giacometti, and Yuuri Katsuki speak with the press after their stunning free skates in Tokyo, Japan

 

102,197 Comments

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**Viktuuri is Real** 15 hours ago VIKTUURI IS REAL AND I CALLED IT #VIKTUURI

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**Brown Bear** 9 hours ago Viktuuri is Real #VIKTUURI BITCHES

**Torso Boy** 3 hours ago Viktuuri is Real #VIKTUURI

 

**Bring Back Queer Eye** 14 hours ago Holy shit holy shit holy shit I’m goddamn hyperventilating over this. Viktor just came out in a press conference. What is real. What is happening. I never thought I’d see the day. VIKTOR NIKIFOROV IS GAY AND HAS ALWAYS BEEN GAY AND NOW I’M SCREAMING ABOUT IT AND I CAN’T STOP

See all 192 replies

**Shephard Book’s Special Hell** 13 hours ago Bring Back Queer Eye YAAAAAAAAAAS

**The name’s Mandering, Jerry Mandering** 12 hours ago Bring Back Queer Eye this is the most important piece of sports news I think I’ve ever heard. I wonder how Russia feels now, knowing officially that their Living Legend is the epitome of everything they hate. Honestly, we all already knew he was gay, but getting that confirmation after so many years denying it…this is just so amazing.

 

**Hepzibah Smith deserved what she got** 14 hours ago Viktor Nikiforov is retiring, and chose to coincide that announcement with coming out? Is anyone else a little skeptical of this? Seems like a bit of a press-grab to me. In fact, the whole past three months in the figure skating world has seemed like a press-grab. Everyone knows that Nikiforov is already a bit of a has-been. Yeah, he’s still winning, but it’s really his name that’s earning those points and not him. The whole setup of everything just feels off. Like, I’m really supposed to believe that he was jumped by thugs, doesn’t press charges and still win the World Championships? Smells fishy to me. I don’t know what parts are faked, or if any of it is even true, but I guarantee that everything between the GPF and now has been one elaborate publicity stunt. I mean, Nikiforov comes out at his last Worlds? FAKE. Besides, he’s really not even gay. He dated Hélène Cipres in 2013 for crying out loud. Hélène. Cipres.

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**honey badger dont care** 8 hours ago Hepzibah Smith deserved what she got Okay first off, I have a huge problem with your *blatant endorsement of Tom Riddle* which is 100% NOT OKAY. Hepzibah Smith was MURDERED because she liked to collect things, and her house elf was FRAMED. #justice4hokey. ALL THAT ASIDE, seriously, Marvolo, are you FREAKING INSANE? If you knew anything about Viktor, or figure skating, or anything at all, you’d know that Viktor is a very kind man who would never fake an assault in order to get more views. And ALSO, while we’re on the subject of HOW WRONG YOU ARE ABOUT EVERYTHING, lots of people date people of the opposite gender before coming out. It’s called being in the closet. I don’t care how beautiful that French model is (or any of the other models V. dated in the early 2010s); he’s gay, and they were beards. Beautiful beards, but beards.

**Beautiful beards are beards** 8 hours ago honey badger dont care I changed my screenname because of you. Thank you. I was once a beautiful beard for a nice lesbian girl. I also have a beautiful beard on my face. It resonated.

 

**Everything is AWESOME!!!** 11 hours ago YAAAAAAS HOLLAAAAA YOU GO VITYA SLAAAAAAYYYYYY MY GAY BOYZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!

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**Nevermore** 9 hours ago Everything is AWESOME!!! this is why we can’t have nice things. Calm down before you sprain your vocal chords. It’s not that big a deal.

**hihi smiley face** 7 hours ago Nevermore it is actually a very big deal for a top Russian athlete to come out. Russia is incredibly homophobic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Viktor was genuinely in danger for his life now. He’s got national hero status in Russia, and he totally just flipped them the biggest middle finger by coming out publicly (and on international television). I agree that all this enthusiasm is kind of obnoxious, but that’s because it’s genuinely unsafe to be gay in most parts of Russia and all the crazy disgusting Viktuuri shippers in the US have absolutely no concept of the very dangerous realities of this. It’s only March, but this might be the biggest piece of sports news in 2016 (including the Olympics and the World Cup).

 

**Patrick Hamilton** 9 hours ago If Viktor Nikiforov is gay, what I would like to know, then, is why he’s never said anything condemning Russia’s policies on “non-traditional sexualities,” and especially not at the last Olympics in Sochi. It’s his responsibility, as a Russian athlete and as a gay man, to speak out against that kind of stuff. I know it’s nice he’s having his moment, but where was he when Putin signed those laws into effect? Where was he when gay men and lesbians were having their safe spaces dismantled? Where was he when lead LGBT rights advocates in Moscow were being arrested and sent off to Siberia? Shame on him for waiting this long, in my opinion. He holds national sway. He could have prevented this.

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**Twizzlers on Ice** 7 hours ago Patrick Hamilton I mean, a little bit, good question, but in all honesty…we know the answer. Viktor was in the closet. Could he have used his popularity to sway public opinion sooner, rather than later? Maybe. We’ll never know. But one thing I do know, is that you shouldn’t ever shame someone for coming out when they are ready. And I mean truly ready—not one second before or one second after. Viktor could have come out. He could have made a difference for the Sochi games. But if he wasn’t ready, he just wasn’t ready.

**Your Grandfather’s Moustache** 6 hours ago Patrick Hamilton are you insane? Think about this from Nikiforov’s point of view. Those anti-gay laws went into national effect in Russia in 2013, but they began being implemented at the regional level as far back as 2006. He would have been 17 for most of that year, just before he made his first big international splash at the senior level. He’d probably grown up indoctrinated in homophobic hate, and he probably had a lot of internalized guilt/fear/anger regarding his own sexuality. He might not have been allowed to say anything, either. The only one man who could have prevented the anti-gay laws in Russia is the one who signed them in the first place, Vladimir Putin. Suggesting Nikiforov should’ve acted differently is tantamount to victim blaming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**March 31, 2016, Late Night – Tokyo, Japan**

 

Viktor pulled the covers up over his torso, then tossed the corner down so that Yuuri could climb into bed. He lay on his back, eyes closed while he listened to the sound of the water running in the bathroom. After a few moments, the tap turned off. The door opened and the light flicked off.

Yuuri sat on the edge of the bed in his navy boxer briefs and a grey t-shirt. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Viktor said. He smiled and curled onto his side.

“Tomorrow’s the last day of competitions.”

“Yeah, I know. Free dance. Do you want to go watch it?”

“Sure. Hey, Vitya?”

“What’s up?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep, I’m fine.”

“Okay, good.”

“Yuuri?” Viktor pushed himself half up and propped his weight on his arm.

“Hmm?”

“Are  _ you _ okay?”

“Um, not really.”

“Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Yuuri sighed. He pushed his legs under the blankets and pulled the corner back over his body. He snuggled into the mattress facing Viktor, but his eyes were focused on the pillow underneath his head. “Do you remember there was something I wanted to talk to you about? I just realized today that I kind of wanted to talk to you about it before we went public, just in case it came up in the press, but I wasn’t really ready to talk about it yet. I was thinking, maybe once we got to Hasetsu, I’d be okay to bring it up, but now I…well, I feel like I have to tell you now, but I also feel like I don’t want to get in the way of your big moment, you know?”

Viktor brushed his fingers along Yuuri’s face, gently nudged his chin so that Yuuri was looking at him instead of at the pillow. “If you’re not ready to tell me, don’t tell me. But no matter what it is, it’s not going to get in the way of anything, so don’t be afraid to tell me anything at all.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said. The corners of his eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but he managed to keep them from falling.

A full minute passed before Viktor reached to press a kiss into Yuuri’s forehead and sank back into the bed. He grabbed one of Yuuri’s hands in his own and began playing with it, massaging the pad of his thumb into the center of Yuuri’s palm. “I love you, you know,” he whispered.

“Pres tried to drug me,” Yuuri said. “And Tyler. I have proof he tried to drug Tyler, but he’d been really pushing me to take this drink, and it spilled before I drank it, so I don’t know for sure, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent convinced that he only went after Tyler because he wasn’t going to be able to get to me. He tried to drug me, Vitya.”

Viktor froze for a moment before returning his attention to Yuuri’s palm. He pulled the hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. “I got him banned from the bar and talked to the police. Ciao-Ciao filed a report. I don’t know if it’ll come up in any interviews or not, since I asked to be anonymous with it all, but in case it does…I mean, they shouldn’t be asking you any of this shit, but now that they know we’re together…and…”

“And?”

“You were right. About before. I thought about it a lot, and I talked with Ciao-Ciao a little, and I thought about it some more, and I looked up some symptoms online, and I think he must have done that before. Drugged me. He drugged me. He drugged me and fucked me and I don’t remember any of it well enough to do anything about it.”

“Zoloste?”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“Can I hold you?”

“Mmhmm,” Yuuri hummed. He rolled over into Viktor’s chest, tugged Viktor’s arms into place. “Thanks for listening. And for not saying ‘I told you so.’”

“Any time,” Viktor said, tightening his hold ever so slightly. “I just wish there was something more I could do.”

“This is enough,” Yuuri said. He pulled one set of Viktor’s knuckles to his lips before settling their arms back into place. “This is more than enough.”


	42. Chapter 42

**April 2, 2016, Mid-Morning – Tokyo, Japan**

Yuuri was bouncing his knee nervously under the table when he felt Viktor’s hand grab his thigh and hold him still. Looking from the hand to Viktor’s face, Yuuri saw his partner’s nerves just as clearly as he felt his own. “Sorry,” he said.

“Sorry,” Viktor replied. “Can you show me that email again?”

“Uh, sure,” Yuuri pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the email he’d received from Morooka Hisashi the day before. “He asked if he could meet with us and introduce us to someone interested in filming a TV special that would air in America. Then I wrote back that we could meet this morning, and he wrote back for 10:30 in the hotel restaurant, and now it’s 10:25 and we’re in the hotel restaurant?”

“It’s the same person who did the interview with you when you talked about your mental health, right?”

“Yeah. Him and someone I don’t know. Did you get any interview requests like this yet?”

“None that I know of. I haven’t been checking my email, so something might have come in.”

“Should you be checking your email?”

Viktor shook his head. “Once I saw that my Russian sponsors had dropped me and got the strongly-worded notice from the FFKK that they were very upset with me and that they would expect me to follow through with my retirement and step down after World Team Trophy, I decided it wasn’t worth it.”

“You didn’t tell me about any of that,” Yuuri said.

“Oh, I thought it would be pretty obvious. I mean, I’m honestly a little surprised the FFKK still wants me to skate for World Team Trophy.”

“They’d be idiots not to.” Yuuri grabbed one of Viktor’s hands and squeezed it. “You’re the best figure skater of all time. They’d be absolute idiots not to.”

Viktor shrugged. “I kissed a man on live television. Georgi said that his mother told him that they didn’t even have time to censor it, so all of my fans who were watching live saw it happen. I’ve ruined my reputation and career in Russia. Finally.”

“You’re taking this very…strangely. Are you alright?”

“Probably not,” he confessed after a pause. “It all feels so disconnected right now. Like it’s unreal, or like it’s happening to someone else. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it’s almost like I’m not even in my own body. I’m just hanging to one side watching the life I’ve spent decades building fall apart around me, and I can’t bring myself to feel sad or even care.”

“Hmm…have you…you said that your therapist did a couple Skype sessions with you? Are you going to have any more of those?”

“I should probably, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, probably. I mean, you just described like, the textbook definition of dissociation. Which isn’t something that you’ve ever brought up before, so um…yeah, please take care of yourself?”

“Okay, I’ll call them today and see about it.”

Yuuri was about to reply when movement near the hotel entrance to the restaurant caught his eye. He looked up to see Morooka standing with a tall, curly-haired American-looking man. He stood and waved them over. The pair of reporters hurried over to the table, and when they arrived, Morooka and Yuuri bowed to each other quickly before shaking hands. Morooka bowed toward Viktor as well, who stood and clumsily repeated the gesture before grabbing his hand into a firm handshake.

Morooka gestured to the American. “This is a friend of mine, Matt Palermo. He works for NBC.”

Viktor’s face brightened and he reached to shake the man’s hand. “I remember you. Ice dance, ninth place in Vancouver.”

Palermo blushed. “Yes, that was us.”

“I love ice dance,” Viktor said. “Sometimes I wonder how my life would’ve been different if I’d gone into ice dance instead, but I always loved jumping just a little too much.”

“ _ Anno _ ,” Yuuri said, “please have a seat.”

The four men sat down, and Morooka hailed a waitress. The girl came and took orders for drinks and food, marking them down quickly on a tablet with a stylus.

Once she was gone, Palermo cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what Hisashi said in his email, but I’m interested in filming an in-depth feature on you both, your relationship and how it came about, and why you chose now to go public about it. We do features like these on our Team USA athletes regularly, especially during Olympic seasons. I was on the film team for several of them for Sochi.”

“Neither of us are American,” Yuuri said. “I’m not sure why an American channel would be interested in me. Viktor, yes, because he’s the best. I’m not—”

“If you say you’re not special or call yourself ‘dime-a-dozen,’ I swear I am kicking your ass right here and right now,” Viktor interrupted him. “You’re the World bronze medalist. You’re amazing. Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Yuuri said. “I have a point.”

“In this case,” Morooka said, “TV Asahi asked me to try to do more or less the same thing, since we are known to have good rapport, Katsuki-kun. Matt reached out to me for the same reason. Ultimately, it would be a co-production of NBCSN and TV Asahi, and would air on both channels during World Team Trophy to try and encourage more viewers.”

“We’re desperate to get more people viewing WTT,” Palermo said. “We get good numbers for the Grand Prix Final and Worlds, but WTT consistently trails behind Four Continents in viewership.”

“You want to film something that would be ready in two weeks?” Viktor asked. “Doesn’t that seem a little…rushed?”

“We’re leaving for Hasetsu tomorrow,” Yuuri said. “We’re not supposed to be back in Tokyo until we absolutely have to be.”

“We could film in Hasetsu,” Morooka said, “if you are interested.”

“Our features usually include a trip into the athlete’s home. We’d like to film you practicing together, and interacting together candidly if we can. As well as formal, structured interviews.”

Viktor hummed. “What kind of information do you want in these interviews?”

“Anything you’d like to share,” Palermo said. “There’s a lot of unconfirmed hearsay about both of you, so anything you’d be willing to address would be of interest to your fans and to our viewers.”

“And what would you, personally, like to know?” Viktor asked, a curious twist of a media smile on his face.

Palermo glanced at Morooka, unsure of himself, before looking back toward Viktor. “I’m probably most curious about the court case over the inheritance dispute, personally. The news outlets that reported on it never seemed to have a clear understanding of what was actually going on.”

“Morooka?”

The Japanese reporter studied Viktor’s face. “On a personal level,” he said after a pause, “I’m mostly concerned about your plans for Yuuri’s career moving forward, as his new coach and choreographer. I expect you to bring out the best of our Ace.”

Viktor’s media smile wavered then broke into a wide grin. “You can count on me for that, don’t worry. My Yuuri is going to win everything next season.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and gently jabbed his elbow into Viktor’s side. “Don’t curse me. Have you forgotten how badly I crashed and burned at the GPF? If you go around saying shit like that, then it’ll just happen again, and then it’ll make you look bad, and I don’t want to make you look bad, and even just thinking about it is giving me anxiety, so don’t do that.”

“Ow, hey,” Viktor pushed him lightly. “That hurt my ego.”

Yuuri sighed. “I still don’t understand—I mean, other than that it’ll be interesting for our fans, I don’t know why we should do this. If we wanted to talk about our lives, we could just film it ourselves for our vlog.”

Palermo nodded and pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket, then slid it across the table to Yuuri. “We’d be more than willing to pay you,” he said.

Yuuri opened the envelope and pulled the paper from inside. On it was printed a list of requirements for them as the featured athletes, as well as a payment amount that made his eyes pop open. He passed the contract to Viktor, who began scrutinizing it closely.

“I think this looks good,” he said to Yuuri. Turning his attention back to the reporters, he said, “The only stipulation would be that we film in Hasetsu, since that’s where we’re going to be.”

Yuuri nodded. “We can’t cancel this trip.”

“Understood,” Palermo said. “Hisashi and I will get a small crew together, probably just ourselves and two or three camera people. We’d like to get started as soon as possible. Four days’ time?”

“That would be—oh!” Yuuri interrupted himself. “What about our vlog?”

“Maybe we can do a behind-the-scenes thing while they’re filming?” Viktor said. “Or any bad takes? Would that be okay?”

“We should do another fall montage.”

“I don’t fall on the ice.”

“Minako-sensei has a studio.”

“Yuuri, no.”

“Yuuri  _ yes _ .”

“Isn’t that Phichit’s line?”

“I’ve lived with Phichit for three years. I’m allowed to co-opt some of them.”

Morooka cleared his throat, causing the two lovers to jump in their seats and refocus their attention. “We can be in Hasetsu in four days, film for two or three, and then have one more week to edit the footage. It will be tight, but possible. If you want to shoot a companion for your vlog, we can discuss those details in Hasetsu after we’ve both talked with our studios. Does this work for you, Katsuki-kun? Nikiforov-san?”

Yuuri and Viktor looked at each other and nodded. “It works for us,” Viktor said.

“If you need someplace to stay,” Yuuri said with a smile, “I know the owners of this very nice onsen ryokan. I could probably get you a discount.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**April 3, 2016, Early Afternoon – Hasetsu, Japan**

Yuuri pulled his suitcase off of the train and looked around himself. “I can’t believe that they have elevated tracks now,” he said to Viktor. “It hasn’t been that long since I was here, but this station is like, four times bigger than I remember it.”

“Does that mean business is booming?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri shook his head. “It probably just means that we have one of the best infrastructures in the world. Americans might not give a shit about the potholes in their roads or their complete lack of sufficient train transportation, but Japan is a civilized place.”

They took the escalator down, careful of their suitcases. When they reached the bottom, Yuuri gasped. “T-this is—.” The entire station was covered in posters of himself, his own face and body surrounded by cherry blossoms and plastered onto the walls and support pillars.

“They must really love you here,” Viktor said with a whistle of appreciation.

To their right, a voice called out, “Yuuri!” Both Viktor and Yuuri jumped as the voice continued shouting toward them, “What are you doing skulking around?”

Yuuri turned toward the voice. “Minako-sensei?!”

The ballet instructor stood on the far side of the ticket readers. She spun in a quick pirouette and unleashed a banner printed with Yuuri’s name in both kanji and Roman characters. “Welcome back after five long years!” she shouted in Japanese, then switched to English, “and welcome to Hasetsu, Viktor Nikiforov!”

“Why are you here?” Yuuri asked, shrinking into himself from the scene being created around him.

“Stand up straight, will ya?” Minako said. “I came to get you.”

Voices around him, strangers, talking about him.

“Hey, isn’t that Yuuri?”

“Yeah, that’s him”

“Oh, he’s been in the news a lot lately. Remember he lost that big competition last year?”

“Was it the Nationals?”

He tried to ignore them, fed his ticket into the reader in order to exit and pulled his suitcase through with him, then turned to make sure Viktor had followed. No sooner were they both through than an older man carrying a rectangular bag over his shoulder and a square one in his left hand came up to him and asked, “Let me shake your hand.”

Yuuri was about to refuse when he felt Viktor’s hand on his shoulder. He spared a quick glance at the other’s face, then shook the offered hand. “Thank you for your support,” he said.

Soon, he had a short line formed around him. A small child nearly tore his arm off, and the elderly woman with him asked quietly, “Who are you again?” Yuuri sighed, but Minako implored him to smile, and Viktor kept his hand firmly planted on his shoulder, keeping Yuuri grounded. When the crowd finally dissipated, Minako tugged his arm, and Yuuri barely had a chance to grab the handle of his suitcase and follow her.

“Alright!” she said, “Now you’re going to greet everyone in town.”

“Minako-sensei, slow down,” Yuuri said, trying to keep up. He glanced behind his shoulder and saw that Viktor was struggling with the pace and his overstuffed bag. Yuuri pulled on his arm, forcing Minako to stop and allowing Viktor to catch up. In English, he asked, “What about your ballet classes?”

“We’re closed today,” she answered, still in English. “I barely have any students these days, anyway. Hasetsu’s losing more and more people. Hardly any kids are skating anymore. You should cheer things up around here, Yuuri! We’re all so excited about your medal at Worlds. Come on, let’s go. Everyone’s been dying to see you.”

Yuuri looked at his former instructor, then at the ground. “Sorry,” he said, “but I’m kind of tired, and…um, Minako-sensei, you didn’t even give me a minute to introduce my boyfriend. Vitya, this is Okukawa Minako-sensei. Sensei, this is Viktor.”

Minako froze for a second before enthusiastically shaking Viktor’s hand. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Seeing you with Yuuri was just the most natural thing, what with how many posters he had growing up. I forgot for a minute that even if I’ve seen you, you’ve never seen me.”

“It’s fine,” Viktor said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the person who taught Yuuri how to be so beautiful when he moves.”

Letting go of Viktor’s hand, Minako turned to Yuuri and said in Japanese, “Good job, kiddo. Your idol is besotted.”

With a roll of his eyes, Yuuri replied in English, “Can we not use Japanese around Viktor? It’ll be hard enough to translate with my dad.”

“I don’t mind,” Viktor said. “I need to learn it sometime. I picked up the word  _ idol _ .”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Yuuri said, “can we please just go to Yutopia now? I promise I’ll do whatever crazy local appearances you want tomorrow, but right now I just want to go home.”

“Fine,” Minako said with a sigh. “Follow me; I brought my car.” She led them out of the station and into a small parking lot, where she popped the trunk of a sleek black sedan. Viktor lifted his heavy case and stuffed it into the trunk, then pushed Yuuri’s in next to it. He let Yuuri take the front seat and folded himself into the back seat. Minako pulled out of the lot and drove through town. “That’s the castle up there,” she pointed when they passed the landmark.

“A castle?” Viktor perked.

Yuuri grinned. “Inside, it’s a ninja house. The castle is just a façade.”

“Really? Ninjas? I have to get my picture there later. Maybe after I get Makkachin back.”

“If you turn right here, you get to the rink,” Minako said when they reached an intersection. “Turn left, and you get to Yutopia Katsuki.” She turned left and drove four more blocks before pulling up in front of the Katsuki family inn. After parking and popping the trunk for the boys, she bounded toward the main entrance. Yuuri and Viktor tried to keep up, and caught her just as she was calling out, “Hiroko! I brought Yuuri home!”

“Why are we coming in the front?” Yuuri asked. “ _ Tadaima _ .”

“Minako-senpai!” a voice like Yuuri’s called from further inside the building, followed by the sound of running feet. The woman who appeared, Yuuri’s mother, stopped just short of the three. “Thank you for going to get him! Yuuri,  _ okaeri! _ ”

“Thanks,” Yuuri said, shuffling his feet. He reached for his left arm with his right hand and began scratching at the inner elbow. “Sorry it’s been five years.”

“It’s all good,” Hiroko said. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your  _ friend _ ?”

Yuuri blushed, but he stopped scratching and grabbed Viktor’s hand. “ _ Okaa-san _ ,” he said, “this is Viktor Nikiforov, my boyfriend.”

Hiroko bowed, and Viktor followed suit. Then she jumped and clapped her hands. “I’m so happy that you’re here, Vicchan,” she said. “Yuuri’s told me so much about you.”

Viktor smiled. “Nothing bad, I hope,” he said.

With a smile just like Yuuri’s, Hiroko said, “Oh, don’t worry. Until recently, he only told me what I could read in the tabloids myself.”

A paper screen behind the reception desk slid aside to reveal a man in a green vest and a purple bowtie. Laughing, he pointed at Yuuri. “What’s with that face? You look just like your mom!”

“ _ Otou-san _ ,” Yuuri said in Japanese, “long time no see. This is my boyfriend.”

Toshiya slid the divider shut and reappeared, where he reached to shake Viktor’s hand. In heavily accented English, he said, “Welcome, Yuuri’s boyfriend, to Yutopia Katsuki.” He bowed to Viktor, then pulled Yuuri into a quick hug. In Japanese, he said to his son, “Tell him I’m sorry I don’t know more English, but I hope he’ll be comfortable here.”

Yuuri was relaying the message when something caught his eye—a photo hanging on the wall of Mari and Vicchan. “Um,” he said, “ _ Okaa-san _ …”

She followed his line of vision until her own eyes landed on the photograph. “Of course,” she said. “Go say hi to Vicchan. Then come back down for some katsudon.”

Yuuri nodded and stepped out of his shoes, then reached for Viktor’s hand. Viktor pulled off his own shoes and left them next to Yuuri’s before taking his hand and letting the Japanese man lead him through the public part of the inn and into the private spaces of his childhood home.

Yuuri slid open a door, and they entered a dim room, rich with incense in the air. With the door closed behind them, Yuuri let go of Viktor’s hand. In the front of the room, there was an old treadmill and upturned table on one side and a stack of old newspapers on the other. In between, and in the center of the room, there was a shrine delicately assembled surrounding a framed photo of a much-younger Yuuri and the puppy version of Vicchan. Yuuri knelt in front of the shrine, and Viktor copied him. Yuuri lit a stick of incense and placed it in the holder. In the silence, they both breathed in the heady fumes.

Footsteps behind them caused both to turn. A young woman with hair half blonde and tied back with a purple scarf appeared in the doorway. “Yuuri,” she said, “welcome back.”

“Mari-neechan,” Yuuri said, turning on his knees to face his sister. “It’s been a while. Sorry to visit when things are busy. This is Viktor.”

“Hello,” Viktor said. He stood and offered his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

Mari shook the hand. “You, too,” she said. “Been hearing lots about you for over a decade. Hey, how long are you both staying in Hasetsu?” She pulled a cigarette and a lighter from the pocket of her maroon apron. To Yuuri, she asked, “Will you help out with the onsen?”

“Huh?” Yuuri asked. “Where is this coming from?”

“Just wondering,” she said. She put the cigarette between her lips and lit it. “You’re going to keep skating, so I’ll keep supporting you. Just wondering what you’re going to do with the rest of your time.”

“I guess I can help out,” Yuuri said meekly.

“Hmm, okay. Why don’t you go show your boyfriend the onsen?” she said as she blew smoke away from both of their faces. She slipped through the door she’d come through, then popped her head back through. “And I don’t care what  _ okaa-san _ said; no sex in the onsen. I’m the one who cleans up out there.”

Yuuri turned bright red. “ _ Oneechan! _ ” He reached for the closest thing, the pillow that had been under Viktor’s knees, and threw it at his older sister. With a laugh, she closed the door before it hit her and disappeared. Yuuri sighed, stood up, and put the cushions back where they belonged. “Vitya,” he said, “welcome to Hasetsu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *finally* got to see Black Panther tonight yay!!
> 
> I'm thinking about going through the chapters and fixing any formatting errors/typos. I don't know if I'm committed to that yet or not, though. It'd be a bit of work.
> 
> Also, if you're going to be at Anime Boston at the end of this month, let me know! I'll be there!


	43. Chapter 43

**April 4, 2016, Early Afternoon – Hasetsu, Japan**

 

Viktor sighed and groaned as he opened the email app on his phone. “Do I really have to do this?” he asked—whined—at Yuuri.

“Yes,” Yuuri said. They were seated on tall stools at a bar in a café near Ice Castle, on a break from their full day of training. Yuuri took a sip of his cold melon tea through a bright green straw. “You have to make sure no one’s suing you for breach of contract, if nothing else. But I think you’ll find some good in there, too, Vitya.”

“You’re talking like you have experience.”

He sipped his tea again. “After the interview that I did about my mental health, I got a huge flood of messages from fans who reached out to thank me for being open and honest, and that they were also struggling and hadn’t known what to do. They saw my interview and said they felt less alone. That girl from Four Continents has serious problems with agoraphobia, and she still came to see that competition _alone_ because she wanted to meet me. I’m sure you’re going to find something like that in your inbox, too.”

Viktor sighed again. “If you say so.”

“You won’t know unless you look,” Yuuri said.

Viktor focused on the phone screen. In just a few days, he’d accrued nearly ten thousand emails to his fanmail account, and a little over a hundred to his business account. He locked the screen and put the phone down. “This is overwhelming. There’s no way I can sort through all of these. Are you sure I can’t just ignore them?” When Yuuri leveled him with an unimpressed stare, Viktor picked up the phone again. “Fine. I don’t think my battery will hold out through this.”

“You don’t have to look at them all at once, you know,” Yuuri said, “but you can’t keep avoiding it all forever.”

He started with the business account. Some of the emails were spam that had made it through the filter; Viktor was quick to find them and delete them, clearing up about half. Another quarter of them were requests for comments or interviews from different sports media companies. He deleted them without opening them.

More emails from his Russian sponsors; two that had already written to terminate their contract changing their minds and offering to work with him overseas, but not domestic. Not as bad as he’d expected. So much information regarding final checks and financial penalties for breaking contract from half a dozen or so different companies. He flagged them all to pull up on a computer later, shot back quick notes to the two willing companies that he’d consider it if they sent him a new contract agreement.

Emails from the FFKK about future appearances in Russia, threatening to essentially excommunicate him from the Russian skating world if he so much as held Yuuri’s hand in Russia—Viktor rolled his eyes. If the FFKK were going to retaliate, they would have had him step down from World Team Trophy. Gay or not, Viktor was still the most decorated figure skater of all time, and he was still the record-holding world champion, and they needed him more than he needed them. It would be a long time before someone else would have a chance to overtake his medal count, and there was no guarantee that person would be Russian.

Viktor found himself not caring about the FFKK at all. He’d been expecting a genuine punishment and had received nothing but empty threats.

The next set of emails he focused on were from his overseas sponsors. Chanel, Armani, Dior, Gucci—most of them were run-of-the-mill, nothing exciting. Asks to do photoshoots and to do some native advertising for new products on his social media. He replied to them with Yuuri’s address as his current location and asked for time to organize himself after his move before going at it. After WTT, he’d be available for these things, he said.

He had an email from a name he didn’t recognize with an @gov.ru email address. His stomach turned. “Can I be done now?”

Yuuri’s tea was empty. “How many do you have left?”

He looked at his inbox. “Not many. I got one from someone in the government.”

Yuuri froze for a moment. “You’ve met Putin before, haven’t you?”

“Once,” Viktor said quietly. “At the Olympics in Toronto. He shook my hand and told me I hadn’t let Russia down by getting the silver. I was supposed to do a photoshoot thing with him for the Sochi Olympics, but I ‘had the flu’ that week and had to cancel.”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know about that.”

Viktor locked his phone and put it on the countertop. He stretched his arms behind his back. “Putin’s the one who made it effectively illegal to be gay in Russia, and there was a lot of pressure on me to either denounce it or endorse it, and I couldn’t do either, so I just let my voice be missing from the conversation entirely. I was terrified of making a mistake, and the federal laws were still so new. I had no idea what would happen. Some people were upset, and read it as an insult, but I made statements about not wanting to get him sick, since he was so important to the nation. It was okay after that.”

Yuuri reached for Viktor’s hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to look at the email if you don’t want to.”

With a sigh, Viktor picked up his phone with his empty hand. “I should.” He unlocked the phone and opened the email. Yuuri leaned over to look at the screen, but seeing the Cyrillic characters, he dropped back into his seat. The pit in Viktor’s stomach grew. “Well,” he said. “This is shitty.”

“What does it say?”

“It’s from a staffer in Medvedev’s office, and nothing nice. Basically, my actions have been noted and there will be consequences if I continue to comport myself in this way before the Russian public. Oh, but this is my favorite part—” he pointed to the bottom of the message, underneath the signature. “‘On a personal note, it doesn’t surprise me that you’re one of those. Why they didn’t pull your credentials to prevent you from disgracing our nation years ago is beyond me.’”

“Ouch,” Yuuri said. He wrapped his arms around Viktor’s waist and rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “How many more do you have to read?”

“One less than before. There’s just a couple left. Oh, this one’s from the Russian LGBT Network,” Viktor said as he opened another email. “They’re very proud of me and want to support me when I come back to Russia. How do I tell them I’m not coming back to Russia?”  He paused as that implication set in, his eyes going up to Yuuri’s. “Oh my God, I’m not going back to Russia.”

Yuuri held on tighter. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered. “We’re going to be okay. And someday, we’ll both be able to go there, and you can show me around Saint Petersburg. Take me to your home rink, to the river, to the museums. It’ll…one day, it’ll happen.”

“I don’t know if it ever will, zoloste. I would love…to show you the river…”

Yuuri kissed his shoulder. “I’ll show you the beach, then, instead. Let’s go?”

“One more email,” Viktor said. With shaking fingers, he opened the last one. “This is from ILGA Europe. They’re thanking me for coming out and hoping that my celebrity status will help push LGBT rights forward in not only Russia, but the former Soviet states as well.”

“That’s very kind of them,” Yuuri said.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” Viktor replied. “I don’t know what I should do, who I should be for all of these people now. I never wanted to be a political activist, but now…”

“Just be yourself, Viktor. No one else. You’re under no obligation to be anything for anyone other than yourself for yourself.”

“And for you,” Viktor said.

Yuuri smiled into his shoulder. “And for me. Now, come on, let’s go to the beach.”

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

**April 5, 2016, Late Evening – Hasetsu, Japan**

 

Viktor was hiding in Yuuri’s old bedroom, away from the bustling restaurant downstairs where Yuuri was currently waiting tables for his parents. Surrounded by posters of himself, Viktor flipped through the fanmail in his fan email account. So much of it was like Yuuri had said he’d find—queer people who had seen themselves in Viktor and were so excited that he’d come out and was now living his truth. But almost as much of it was the opposite, homophobic countrymen writing to tell him that he was a disgrace.

He opened one more email, just one. It held an embedded video. Viktor played it, watched the small group of people burning posters of him in a large barrel. He looked at Yuuri’s walls, found some of those same posters plastered up around him. Flames licked around his face, distorting the poster paper and crumbling his perfect picture to ash. He wanted to be shocked, but this was the fifth such email he’d received, and he knew that there were more videos on YouTube. He didn’t know why he’d watched it at all.

He locked his phone and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. He missed Makkachin, wished she could come out of quarantine soon. Curling up on the bed, he pulled the pillow into his arms and held it tightly. He wanted his dog.

On the floor, his phone buzzed.

 

_From Yuu-tan:_

_Hey._

_Dinner?_

_I have a break_

_I can’t believe Mari talked me into dinner shift_

 

Viktor groaned and rubbed his face. He’d been crying, hadn’t he? He didn’t understand why he was so upset. He was here, in Hasetsu, with Yuuri. He was with Yuuri, and that was all that mattered. Wasn’t it? Makkachin would be here soon, so would the things he’d shipped from Russia. People were burning his posters at home, but he was surrounded by so many well-loved copies of them right here. At home, here. He wasn’t sure which was which anymore.

_Yuuri_.

Yuuri had been home in Detroit, and Yuuri would be home wherever he was.

Viktor hated that he felt so unmoored, so foreign to himself. He pushed himself up and out of the bed, meandered into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. With a close examination of his eyes in the mirror, he decided that it was safe to be around people without showing he’d been crying. He typed a quick reply to Yuuri, let him know he was coming down, then hesitantly headed down the stairs and through the hallway separating the Katsuki family private residence from their business.

He froze at the entrance to the restaurant, saw Yuuri in the navy blue outfit he’d called a [ _samue_ ](https://www.seidoshop.com/collections/jinbei-samue) and gray apron that matched the purple ones worn by his sister and mother. Yuuri was leaning on the doorway to the kitchen next to the small bar, chatting with a customer. Watching Yuuri from across the room, so far unnoticed, Viktor could see that the younger man belonged here. He was more comfortable, more relaxed, than he’d ever been in public in Detroit, and he was smiling. Viktor hoped that soon, he could feel the same way.

Yuuri noticed him, waved him over, and Viktor crossed the room by keeping to the walls and avoiding cutting in between the tables full of restaurant patrons. When he reached Yuuri, the younger man grabbed his hand. “Sensei, this is Viktor. Vitya, this is Aizawa-sensei, my high school English teacher. He helped me a lot when I was getting ready to move to Detroit.”

The older man offered his hand, and Viktor shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Viktor said quietly.

“Oh, no, the pleasure is mine,” the teacher replied, voice light and gentle, and with a touch of the same accent as Yuuri. “Yuuri-kun was just telling me that you are both relocating to Hasetsu for the foreseeable future.”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” Viktor said with a smile. A media smile. He could feel Yuuri’s eyes boring into him, but he hoped that Yuuri would wait until they were alone to call him out.

“How much Japanese do you speak?” the teacher asked.

Viktor blushed. “I’m afraid not much,” he confessed. “Just enough to get around as a tourist.”

The old man nodded. “I’m retired now,” he said, “and I have more time on my hands than I’d like. If you are interested in receiving private lessons in Japanese, I’d be more than willing to give them to Yuuri-kun’s new _koibito_.” He placed an emphasis on the last word, eyes twinkling.

It was a word Viktor recognized, _lover_. “I would like that very much,” Viktor said, smile growing. “Maybe we could begin after World Team Trophy?”

“Alright,” Aizawa said. He stood up from his stool and shook Viktor’s hand again. “The Katsukis have my number. Get in touch with me when you’re ready to begin.” He clasped Yuuri’s hand next, said something in Japanese that Viktor couldn’t pick apart at all. To both of them, he said, “Welcome home, boys. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Sensei,” Yuuri said, and before Viktor could echo, the old man was halfway across the room and waving a final farewell. When he was gone, Yuuri turned to Viktor. “Food?”

“Lead the way,” Viktor said.

Yuuri pulled him into the kitchen, waved to his father, stopped to pick up a tray with two meals, balanced it on one arm and dragged Viktor through the kitchen into the family’s private dining room on the far side. He let go of Viktor’s hand and placed the meals on the table, then disappeared back into the kitchen with the tray. “It might’ve gotten a little cold,” he said when he reappeared in the doorway. “Sorry.”

The table was higher than the ones in the dining room, more Western-style. Yuuri pulled out a chair for Viktor, then sat down across the table. Viktor took the seat with a small thank you, and examined the food. Salmon, rice, vegetables, a bowl with a lid that he knew held soup.

“It’s kind of simple,” Yuuri said. “Sorry.”

“It looks delicious,” Viktor said.

“Well, it’s no katsudon.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Viktor picked up the chopsticks, flaked off a bite of the salmon, and ate it. “Vkusno,” he said.

Yuuri was eating the soup. “So, why were you crying earlier?”

“You caught that?” When Yuuri nodded, Viktor pulled up the video he’d received. He passed the phone to Yuuri. “This happened.”

Yuuri choked on his soup when he saw the video. He coughed until his windpipe was clear, then nearly shouted, “Holy fuck! What the fuck? This is fucked up, Vitya. Who sent you this shit?”

Viktor sighed. “I don’t know, someone. It was in my fanmail. I got a few different videos like that.”

“This is bullshit. This is so fucked up. Fuck!”

“I know.”

Yuuri stood up from the table and came around to Viktor’s side, pulled him up and into a tight hug. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

“It’s okay,” Viktor said, holding him just as tightly. “It’ll be okay. I have you. That’s all that matters.”

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

**April 5, 2016, Late Night – Hasetsu, Japan**

 

{link}

{ **Gay Russian Figure Skater Faces Retribution, Threats After Coming Out** }

 

Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov shocked audiences after this year’s World Championships in Tokyo, Japan, when he kissed fellow skater and bronze medalist Yuuri Katsuki (JPN) following the medal ceremony. The pair proceeded to announce their romantic relationship at the post-ceremony press conference, to the surprise of few who had been observing the pair’s social media over the past several months.

Almost immediately following this announcement, members of the Figure Skating Federation of Russia (FFKK) placed distance between themselves and their top skater, with a statement from President Aleksander Gorshkov’s office going up on their website that they intend to comply with Russia’s series of anti gay propaganda laws that prohibit discussions of “non-traditional” sexualities in the media and around minors. While Nikiforov is still slated to compete in the end-of-season World Team Trophy competition, Gorshkov’s statement makes it clear that the FFKK would bar him from competition in the upcoming 2016-2017 season if Nikiforov wanted to compete. Nikiforov, however, announced his retirement concurrently with his coming out.

Several of Nikiforov’s Russian sponsors, including leather goods company ∑33 and winter fashion brand Punk Paul Symphony. Combustion have cancelled their contracts with the skater, echoing similar sentiments to the FFKK regarding the protection of minors from negative influences. In addition, Russian social media has exploded with former fans showing their anger toward the skater by posting videos destroying their merchandise of the skater, some chanting homophobic slurs while burning their posters in effigy.

Nikiforov himself has been more or less absent from his social media and did not respond when we reached out for comment, though fans report seeing him with Katsuki at the latter’s family home in southwestern Japan.

 

_*Edited to correct the name Punk Paul Symphony. Combustion, which previously appeared as Punk Paul Symphony Combustion._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who missed another major New England storm, guys???
> 
> This girl.
> 
> I'm in Tampa, Florida right now attending the AWP Conference. My MFA alma mater is the host sponsor this year, so it's been like having a giant four-day reunion of everyone from the program!
> 
> I'm staying with a friend of mine from my MFA who is a Twitch streamer by the name of lizbethbobomb. She does a mix of stuff about cosplay, anime and fitness/body positivity stuff, so check her out! If you want to see us both in action, we're talking doing a stream later tonight together.
> 
> Liz is getting after me to open a Patreon account; what do you guys think?


	44. Chapter 44

**April 6, 2016, Early Afternoon – Hasetsu, Japan**

Yuuri walked into the main dining room of the restaurant, carrying a wide tray of food delicately balanced on his arm. With quick dexterity, he delivered meals to a group of elderly men in the far right corner, then returned to the kitchen.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Yuuri muttered to himself as he grabbed his bottle of water from the counter by the industrial sink. He drained half of it quickly. The lunch crowd was never small, but at least it wasn’t as chaotic as the dinner rush he’d picked up as his regular shift. The restaurant was the most profitable part of the business, oftentimes the only thing keeping the whole onsen ryokan afloat.

“You know we appreciate the help,” his father said. He pulled a bowl full of fresh udon noodles from the refrigerator. “You could think of it like you’re making up that discount you talked us into giving those reporters.”

“I didn’t talk you into anything,” Yuuri said. “Okaa-san suggested it when I told her they’d be coming.”

“You would have asked, though,” Toshiya said with a smile. He measured out the right amount of noodles for a single serving and moved them into a strainer, then rinsed them quickly under cold water.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “I would never endanger the business. Never, at all. Not twenty percent, at least. I might have asked for ten. Morooka-san is a good person, you know.”

Toshiya tossed the white noodles into a pan filled with pork, mushrooms, onions, carrots and cabbage. He reached for a bottle of premixed sauce and squirted some into the pan, stirring until everything was evenly coated. “You could think of it as quality time with your old man.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’m supposed to be skating with Viktor right now, you know.”

“Your company is coming today; you should be here when they arrive. Go take this out,” Toshiya said as he finished plating the yakiudon. He set the bowl on a tray already laden with an order of katsudon.

Yuuri sighed and picked up the tray. He’d been home for a few days, and in some ways, it was like he’d never left at all. He was serving food, making beds, washing linens. Apart from the six hours of dedicated training time at Ice Castle and Minako’s studio, he hardly saw Viktor at all. Viktor, Yuuri knew, was not coping well with the backlash from the Russian public and spending too much time on the ice, distracting himself the only way he knew how. Yuuri wished that he could be there for him more than he was.  _ Not good enough. Not supportive enough. Not helpful enough. _ Viktor needed him for comfort, his parents needed him to help, Mari needed him so she could catch a break for longer than five minutes at a time. He was being pulled in all directions, and he knew it wasn’t sustainable, but he didn’t know how to slow down or where to pull back. And now the news crew was coming, and he’d be needed for that as well.

_ Not good enough. _ Yuuri still wasn’t active on most of his social media, left interacting with fans primarily to Viktor, but he felt more dedicated to the YouTube channel than he cared to admit. Now that they were out, there’d been an uptick in comments on some of their older videos and vlogs from Detroit. The shippers were delighted and going crazy, but the number of trolls dropping hateful comments had gone up, including a sect of Viktor fans who claimed Yuuri was wasting Viktor’s time and ruining his career.

Yuuri knew the truth about Viktor’s decisions, and he tried to hold onto that, but he also understood that in the eyes of the public, those commenters weren’t wrong. Viktor might hate coaching him, might grow bored of him, might flee back to the ice at the drop of a hat if Yuuri screwed it up next season. Yuuri couldn’t screw it up next season.

While he was setting down the food, he saw a group of people enter the restaurant from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and called out, “ _ Irasshaimase! _ ” before properly looking and seeing Morooka and Palermo, along with three people he didn’t recognize. He thanked the customers at his table and quickly moved toward the front of the restaurant. “Hi,” he said, switching to English. “Welcome. Have you already checked in? Anyone staying overnight gets a ten percent discount in the restaurant, by the way, and access to the onsen. But you have to have a room key to get it, so if you want to eat and you haven’t checked in yet, I’d recommend checking in first.”

“Katsuki-kun, are you… _ working _ ?” Morooka asked.

Yuuri shrugged. “You could call it family bonding. According to my dad, that is. So, checking in?”

“We still need to, yeah,” Palermo said. “There wasn’t anybody at the desk.”

“Oh, okay. I can…give me half a minute…” Yuuri said. He glanced toward the desk, then toward the kitchen. He jogged across the room with the tray and called back to the group. “I just have to put this down.”

In the kitchen, he returned the tray to its place. “Where’s Mari-neechan?” he asked. “Or Okaa-san? There’s nobody at the front desk. The news people are here, and they just wandered into the restaurant like lost puppies.”

“Did they ring the bell? It’s supposed to go off in here if there’s nobody out there.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’ll test it when I’m out there?” He didn’t wait for his father to acknowledge him before slipping back through the door and jogging back across the dining area. He motioned for the crew to follow him, saw that in the few seconds he’d been gone, one of the three strangers had pulled out a camera.

He slipped behind the desk, saw the bell box on the counter facing the other side. He reached over and pressed the button once, then twice. “Sorry about that,” he said toward the camera before waking up the idle computer. “Okaa-san has you booked in a suite with three bedrooms, a common room and a bathroom. Is—is that going to be okay? I know it’s pretty spacious; we usually put high school groups in those suites when they do overnight study trips.”

“Sounds great,” Palermo said. “Honestly, anything would have been fine.”

Yuuri nodded, then frowned. His phone buzzed in his apron pocket, and he pulled it out.

 

_ From: Otou-san: _

_ Bell rang once _

 

_ To: Otou-san: _

_ I pressed it twice _

 

He locked the screen and sighed. Getting the bell fixed shouldn’t be too expensive, but he wasn’t sure if they could afford it.  _ Prize money, the check for this appearance, I can cover it. I can cover it. I can pay to modernize the— _ he flinched, remembering that three of the five people were Americans, and probably had American expectations of hotels. “Um, also. This is a [fairly traditional onsen ryokan](https://boutiquejapan.com/ryokan/). Um, so that means we have traditional Japanese futons in the rooms. If you really need a Western-style bed, I can let Mari-neechan know, and she might be able to do something about it, but um. Sorry, I should have said something before you got here, so you’d be prepared for that. Or, um, if you’re not sure how to use the futon, one of us can show you.”

“Katsuki-kun, slow down,” Morooka said to him in Japanese. “They were expecting traditional.”

“Oh. Okay,” Yuuri said. He marked them as checked in on the spreadsheet of reservations, then found the keys, metal connected to wooden placards with the suite number printed in numerals by thin chain loops. “Sorry we don’t have anything more high-tech,” he said when he passed the keys to the group. “Can I help you carry anything?”

“No, I think we can get it all,” one of the camera people said.

“Alright, then,” Yuuri said. He saved the spreadsheet one last time, closed it, and put the screen to sleep. “If you want to follow me, I can show you to the rooms.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**April 6, 2016, Late Night – Hasetsu, Japan**

Yuuri skated, lights harsh and bright reflecting off of the ice. He crossed over hockey goal lines, carving figures into the ice. Precise, cold, sharp. He breathed steadily, deeply and from the bottom of his lungs. Somewhere above him, Yuuko was keeping watch from the announcer’s booth, but on the ice, he was alone. There was no music playing, but in his mind, he focused on a light, classical piece he’d skated to years ago in Juniors.  _ Peace and tranquility _ . That had been his theme that year, something he only ever felt at the rink and skating alone. He thought by competing with that theme, he’d be able to transfer those emotions to his competition skates as well. It had worked; that was the year he’d been Junior World Champion. He tried to remember the step sequence from that short program, launched into it without missing a beat. At the end, he flew into a perfect triple axel, landed it with an outstretched arm. He smiled.

When his phone began ringing, he dashed to the boards where it was resting and answered the FaceTime call. “Hey, Ketty,” he said.

Ketty came into view, walking through campus with the sun high behind her. “Yuuri, I just got out of class and my mom vibe is tingling. Why is my mom vibe tingling?”

Holding the phone out with one hand, Yuuri made his way to the gate, clicked on his guards and moved to sit on a bench. “Huh? I don’t know. It’s  _ your _ mom vibe.”

“How are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Fine, I guess. How are you guys?”

“Good. We’re really proud of Viktor, but also really upset about all the shit that came from it.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“How’s he taking it?”

“Honestly? Not good.”

“And how are you taking it?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I don’t see how that really matters. I mean, I’m just trying to be there for Viktor. He’s the one whose life was turned upside down.”

“Well, by that logic, so was yours. You’re not handling this great, are you?”

Yuuri sighed, ran his fingers into his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t really had time to think about it. I’m either practicing or working or listening to Viktor, so…”

Ketty sighed. “And this is why my mom vibe is tingling, Yuu-kun. I know he’s getting a lot of hate, but what about you?”

“I’ve been out for a long time,” he answered, eyes glancing away from the phone.

Ketty scoffed. “So what? It doesn’t have to be hate about coming out or even being gay. It could be anything, Yuuri. What is going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri said. With his free hand, he began scratching at the nape of his neck. “It’s just—it’s nothing, really. I promise. I just need to stop reading the YouTube comments.”

“YouTube commenters are almost always garbage people.”

“We have some good ones,” he said in defense. “Besides, someone has to moderate it.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Ketty said. There was a pause as both allowed the conversation to lapse. Yuuri dropped his free hand back into his lap right when Ketty started talking again, saying, “Anyway, did you hear about what happened at GSA?”

Yuuri sat up, interest suddenly perked. “No? What?”

Ketty’s face drew closer to her camera and she whispered, “Dee threw Pres out. Literally. Picked him up and threw him out of the room.”

“ _ What?” _

“Holy shit, Yuuri, it was amazing. Ty and Dee are pretty close, right? Like, they’re the same major and from the same high school—”

“I had no idea—”

“So, after what you told me about happening at the bar, Tyler told Dee. Then you guys did your live stream from Tokyo, and a bunch of us were watching together, and you talked about Pres being abusive, and Dee like, literally punched a hole in the table he was so angry.”

Yuuri flinched and instinctively shook his own hand. “That’s not good. How bad did he get hurt?”

“Nothing broke; he’s fine. He was beating himself up about it all a lot, right? He felt like he’d been shielding an abuser—”

“He didn’t know—”

“And then he thought about your zero to a thousand personality switch when you get drunk, and the way you were struggling all the past year, and he just felt like shit because he hasn’t really been there for you.”

“It’s not like I reached out or anything—”

“So, anyway. Last week, the GSA was all going to stream the competition together, right? To support you guys. And Pres showed up. It was the first time any of us had seen him since you saw him at the bar. And Dee lost it. Told him that GSA was a safe space for victims, not victimizers, that he was an embarrassment to the gay community, that he needed to get out. When Pres wouldn’t leave, Dee grabbed his shirt, kicked open the door and physically threw him out of the room. Before the door shut, he told him he was banned from the club.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy  _ shit _ .”

“I know.”

“Is—is Tyler pressing charges?”

“I don’t know,” Ketty said with a frown. “Are you?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Absolutely not. I already did way more reporting than I ever felt like I needed to do just by talking to Celestino-sensei. There’s way too much going on right now for me to even think about it. No way.” He looked away from his phone again, focused on the ground by his foot. “Deandre hasn’t said anything to me.”

“He probably doesn’t want to retraumatize you.”

“I’m not traumatized.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, maybe I’m a little bit traumatized. It’s why they give me the good drugs.”

Ketty rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. “Of course. That’s why. Nothing else.”

“Nope, nothing else,” Yuuri said. He sighed. “Should I call him or something? I mean, it’s not his fault I shut everyone out and went off the radar. He shouldn’t be blaming himself for something that  _ I _ did.”

Ketty shrugged. “I dunno. You could just shoot him a text.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know about all of this.”

“No problem. And Yuuri—you’re really okay, right? Or at least, you’re going to be?”

Yuuri nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay,” she said. “If you need anything at all, call me.”

“Okay. We’ll talk again later?”

“Yeah, I gotta go. Take care of yourself, Yuu. Bye!”

“ _ Ja ne _ ,” he said just before the video feed cut off. He waved up toward the booth where Yuuko was still sitting, half asleep with her head in her hand, before heading toward the locker room. He switched his skates for sneakers and packed up his bag. When he was ready to go, he reached for his phone.

 

_ To Deandre Hartshorn: _

_ Hey, Ket told me what you did last week _

_ thx _

 

_ From Deandre Hartshorn: _

_ yeah nbd _

_ sorry about everything _

 

_ To Deandre Hartshorn: _

_ My fault. We cool? _

 

_ From Deandre Hartshorn: _

_ I got your back. _

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
**April 6, 2016, Very Late Night – Hasetsu, Japan**   
  
As quietly as he could, Yuuri slipped into the banquet room that Mari had converted into a bedroom for him and Viktor to share. He wasn’t sure of the hour, but he was almost certain that Viktor would be asleep. The older man was under the covers on the right side of the bed, in fetal position. Yuuri sighed; Viktor normally slept on his stomach, but if he was feeling particularly upset or depressed, he would curl up like that. He hadn’t seen Viktor since before he’d left for Ice Castle.  _ Do more. Be more. Not enough. _   
  
He pulled his clothes off slowly, tugged a soft cotton shirt on over his head, then turned the corner of the blankets down on the left side of the mattress. As slowly and as carefully as he could, he slipped himself under the covers, then plucked his glasses off his face and reached to drop them onto an end table. With a sigh that grew into a yawn, he settled into bed.   
  
The news crew was here; tomorrow, they’d be following him and Viktor all day long. Yuuri didn’t know what to expect, but he hoped he could act naturally in front of the cameras. He didn’t want to ruin the production. This video was about Viktor, for Viktor’s coming out. If Yuuri fucked it all up with his awkwardness, he’d never forgive himself. He hoped that Viktor would, but he wouldn’t expect him to. If Yuuri ruined the video, then it would hinder Viktor’s ability to take control of his narrative and to rebrand himself—it could ruin Viktor’s future. And while it wasn’t like Viktor would be on the verge of destitute, he would have every right to leave Yuuri if Yuuri ruined his future prospects, wouldn’t he? He could be with so many other men, better men that could provide Viktor with so much more stability and who would look so much more attractive at his side.   
  
One commenter had written that Yuuri was just bad arm candy for a man like Viktor and that soon enough, the Russian superstar would drop the stale toffee for a proper gourmet chocolate. Yuuri wasn’t even sure what toffee was, besides a Starbucks flavor, but he got the feeling it wasn’t a popular sweet. He yawned again, more loudly than he expected. He froze and looked at Viktor, hoping the noise hadn’t woken the man.    
  
Half an hour had passed since he first walked into the room, at least, and he was exhausted but still wide awake and staring at the ceiling. If the ceiling fell in, he wondered, would he have time to cover Viktor’s body with his own? Would that stop them from both getting crushed, or would it only make it worse? He wondered how much it would cost his parents to repair a caved-in ceiling, if the cost could be managed or if it would push the inn out of business for good.   
  
He startled and gasped when he felt the sudden weight of Viktor’s body dropping onto his chest. Viktor clung to him, cheek pressed to Yuuri’s chest and arm thrown around his waist, while Yuuri lay in bed. “Vitya,” he whispered, “are you awake?”   
  
“Nnnn,” Viktor hummed into Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri felt the soft pressure of Viktor’s lips kissing him. “Your heart’s beating fast,” the older man said.   
  
“Sorry,” Yuuri replied. “Did I wake you up?”   
  
“Not your fault,” he said. “Did it to myself. Bad dream.”   
  
Yuuri pulled his arm free and began running his fingers through Viktor’s silvery hair. “What was your dream?”   
  
“You were gone. Why’s your heart fast?”   
  
“Keep thinking. Vitya?”   
  
Viktor slid a hand under the edge of Yuuri’s shirt and began rubbing circles with his thumb on the warm skin.“Hmm?”   
  
“Are you happy?”   
  
“Very.”   
  
“You didn’t even think about it.”   
  
“I am, though,” Viktor said. He sat up quickly. “Some things are frustrating, and I wish it were easier, but I don’t have to—I’ve never been free like this before. All of these issues, they’ll pass. They’ll pass over us, and we’re going to come through on the other side.”   
  
“You’re a lot more positive than you were yesterday,” Yuuri said as he too sat up in bed, conscious of the tears quietly creeping down his cheeks.   
  
“You’re a lot more upset than yesterday.”   
  
“I know. Sorry. I’m just…sorry…today was a long day.”   
  
Viktor nodded. “For me, too. My uncle called today.”   
  
“What did he have to say?”   
  
“Oh, the usual. I hung up on him while he was in the middle of calling me a perverted Sodomite, so if there was anything new, I didn’t hear it. I’m so tired of them all, Yuuri. I’m tired of them trying to steal my happiness from me. And I was lonely while you were gone. I was having dark thoughts. But I went into your room and laid in your bed and stared at your posters—”   
  
“Oh my god.”   
  
“I stared at your posters, and all I could think about was how much happier I am now that I’m with you, now that I don’t have to hide who I am anymore. I’m still scared of rebuilding my life from the ground up here, but I know I’m not alone. And I guess, I realized that I’ve never really been alone before either. My whole life as a skater, there have been people watching me and looking up to me and counting on me in the hopes that one day I could say that I was just like them—just like you. You and me, we’re partners, right? Not just in bed or in skating, but in everything. Right?”   
  
“Right.”   
  
Viktor bent forward and placed a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead. “I get to be your partner now, in everything and in front of everyone. How could I ever be happier?”   
  
“You could have someone better,” Yuuri said, too quickly. He winced at himself, avoided Viktor’s gaze which demanded justification. When it became clear that Viktor wasn’t going to ignore the statement, Yuuri sighed. “Someone cooler, someone more attractive, someone more—”   
  
“Someone who’d be better arm candy?”   
  
“You saw that, too?”   
  
“Yuuri, what they don’t realize yet is that I am definitely  _ your _ arm candy and  _ your _ trophy husband. Of course, I also love toffee. The way it gets between your teeth,” he said with a kiss to Yuuri’s lips, “and stays on your tongue.”   
  
Yuuri returned the pressure of his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “You don’t regret this?”   
  
“Never,” Viktor said. “I’ve told you before—I would literally sell my soul in order to be your boyfriend. I wasn’t lying.”   
  
“Please don’t sell your soul. I like your soul.”   
  
“I like yours, too.”   
  
“You really want to be my trophy husband?”   
  
“Of course! I will be your trophy husband, and you will be my husband with all the trophies, because you’re going to dominate next season, and the season after that, and the season after that, and every season forever until both our knees give out and some ridiculous child lands a quad axel.”   
  
“Quad axels are myths.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“I love you, Vitya.”   
  
“I know.”   
  
“Did you—did you just Han Solo me?” Yuuri asked. When Viktor started laughing, Yuuri pulled his pillow from behind his back and whacked it onto his lover’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you just did that.”   
  
Through his laughter, Viktor grabbed his own pillow and brought it down onto the top of Yuuri’s head. “Do you think Alex Garrison would be proud?”   
  
Yuuri fell on top of Viktor and pinned his shoulders to the mattress. “Are you trying to kill the mood by bringing up other men?”

Viktor smiled. “If I ever purposefully kill the mood, assume I’ve been replaced by a robot. We having sex?”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. Can you reach the lube?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE DELAY!!!
> 
> I had two-thirds of this chapter written ages ago, but Denrhea told me in no uncertain terms that there was a scene missing, and it took me a while to settle on what kind of scene was missing. Then, even after I'd decided, I had some issues come up (guess who got dumped! guess whose childhood pet is dying! guess who overdrew her bank account!), so I couldn't muster up the emotional energy to write "lovey-dovey-bullshit" between Viktor and Yuuri, as much as they both deserve their happiness.
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS!
> 
> This past weekend, I went to Anime Boston with some friends of mine and I got to meet Songbirdsara at her Artist Alley table, where she was repping her comic/graphic novel series, Spinnerette (http://www.spinnyverse.com/). I absolutely loved getting to talk with her over the course of the weekend about YOI and Spinnerette (which I am slowly but surely reading right now) (Mecha Maid is #goals). I also started reading her fic "Once and Future Kings," which is stabbing me in the heart because Viktor and Yuuri belong together and they're broken up at the start of the fic, and I can't deal with this emotional trauma in large doses, so it will have to be small bites, but worthwhile bites, because the characterization is ON POINT. I recommend it, if you're not reading it yet (I'm so far in chapter two, and it huuuuuurts).
> 
> Anime Boston loot: Mr. Webby plushie from Spinnerette, Revolutionary Girl Utena print by Gay Breakfast (to add to my wall of Gay Breakfast prints), Teddy Bear Hat from Tizzy Hats (that reminded me of Yurikuma Arashi), AN EMPTY BANK ACCOUNT.
> 
> #worthit


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING; I'M FINALLY POSTING CHAPTER 45!!!!!
> 
> As a recap, Viktor and Yuuri are in Hasetsu preparing to film a TV special for TV Asahi (Morooka Hisashi) and NBCSN (OC Matt Palermo). World Team Trophy is right around the corner, and both of our guys are trying to navigate the emotional issues that Viktor's coming out have brought to light in a way that is mutually supportive.

**April 7, 2016, Early Morning – Hasetsu, Japan**

Viktor sat in the family’s private dining room at the table, scrolling through Instagram on his phone. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He rolled the muscles of his back gently, trying to shake off the stiffness that came with not enough sleep. Just a few short hours after he and Yuuri had finally closed their eyes, Viktor found himself awake in bed and unable to rest. He stayed put for a while, but eventually gave up and crept out of the room to go downstairs. Viktor felt unsure of himself in the Katsukis’ kitchen, which they used for both the family and the restaurant, so he headed straight for the dining room. He would wait for Yuuri, and then the two could eat together.

At the sound of the door opening, Viktor looked up. Mari entered the room, a bowl of yellowish rice in hand. “ _ Ohaiyo _ ,” she said through a small yawn as she placed the bowl and her chopsticks on the table. “You’re up early. Did you already eat?”

Viktor locked his phone and with a wave of his hand, said, “Oh, not yet. I’m just waiting for Yuuri.”

Mari looked at him, still standing. “Don’t,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

“Yuuri takes forever to wake up. By the time he’s ready for breakfast, you’ll need to be out the door already. Go get something and eat; he won’t mind.”

Viktor glanced toward the door that led into the kitchen, then at his phone. “It’s really okay,” he said. “I’m not all that hungry yet, and I’m sure it won’t be too long.”

“Nikiforov-san,” Mari said, “come with me to get some tea, and I’ll show you how to make  _ tamago gohan _ . Then have breakfast with me.” Viktor nodded silently. Standing, he followed her into the kitchen. He watched her prepare a pot of green tea and pull two cups from a cupboard. She pulled a bowl from the same cupboard. “ _ Tamago gohan _ is simple, so anyone should be able to make it. First, you need rice—” she filled the bowl with hot rice from a steam cooker. “And then you crack an egg into it and stir it up quickly.” She grabbed an egg and a pair of chopsticks and handed them to Viktor. “You have to be fast, so the egg doesn’t cook before it’s mixed.”

Viktor held the egg in his hand for a moment before gently cracking the shell on the side of the bowl. As soon as the uncooked egg finished pouring into the rice, he began stirring with the sticks.

“A little bit faster,” Mari said.

Viktor picked up the pace, spilling eggy rice over the edge of the bowl. When he thought it was thoroughly mixed, he stopped. “Like that?” he asked.

Mari drizzled soy sauce into the bowl and shook white sesame seeds on top. “Looks good. A little messy, but good for a beginner.” She grabbed a towel, dampened it at a sink, then cleaned what Viktor had spilled from the counter and the bowl. “Okay,” she said as she picked up the tea pot and the two cups, “let’s go eat.”

Back in the dining room, Mari served them both a cup of tea and sat. “ _ Itadakimasu _ ,” she said before she began eating.

Viktor sipped the tea before lifting a glob of the rice to his lips. “Hmm,” he smiled. “ _ Vkusno _ .” He ate another bite, then another. He’d been skeptical before, certain that either the texture or the taste would be too close to the sensation of  _ raw egg _ for him to enjoy the meal, but the mixture of warmth from the rice and savoriness from the sesame balanced with the gooey texture felt comforting. His usual choices for breakfast were hard things like fruit or cold things like yogurt.

“Nikiforov-san?” Mari said.

“Yes?”

“You’re crying.”

“Oh,” Viktor placed the chopsticks across the top of the bowl and reached up to touch his cheeks. “Sorry.” When he finished wiping the traces of tears from his eyes, he quietly turned his attention back to his food. Mari did the same, but he could feel her observing him, as if his every movement revealed some hidden flaw.

Mari finished her bowl, shrugged and walked toward the window. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, then a red lighter. She tapped a single cigarette out of the box and lit it. After a long drag, she blew the smoke out the window and said, “Yuuri’s never been like this before. What did you do to him?”

“Hmm? Me?” Viktor asked. “I don’t know…I don’t feel like I’ve done much of anything for him, to be honest…He’s the one who…he’s everything.”

“Nobody’s  _ everything _ , Nikiforov-san,” Mari said. She took another drag. “I know you already know this, but my brother’s difficult and doesn’t react to pressure well. Cute romantic crap or not, you can’t just say he’s everything and expect him to be able to live up to that.”

Viktor balked and waved his hands in front of his chest. “I know, I know. I didn’t mean—of course I don’t—I just meant that he’s very important to me.”

“I know,” Mari said. She sighed. “I’m not the worrying type; that’s usually Yuuri’s job. I can’t lie, though. Ever since he finally called home about you, I’ve been worried. He was so obsessed with you growing up, I thought for sure he was on the fast track to a broken heart.” She stopped for another drag of the cigarette, slowly puffing the smoke out into a series of rings. “I’m not a perfect sister, but I do try to protect him when I can. It’s hard to watch a kid like him grow up, you know. Even harder when you’re still a kid yourself for most of it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Viktor said quietly. “Do you still think I’m going to break his heart?”

She shrugged her shoulders, grunted, and smoked. “Who knows,” she said after a silence. “If you do, it’ll be in a normal way, though. Something either of you can prevent. If you catch it quick enough, whatever it is, you’ll never get there. Nikiforov-san—”

“Please, call me Viktor.”

“Viktor-san.” Mari took one last puff on her cigarette before killing the butt on the windowsill. She blew the smoke away from Viktor’s face, reached over and ruffled the skater’s hair.

Viktor sat still, lost in himself. ‘Family’ was such a fraught word for him, and always had been. The thought that he might be welcome, not just as a lover or accessory to Yuuri, but as a member of the family himself—he’d thought about it before, talked about it with Yuuri at length. A future with Yuuri, he could believe in. He could see it and feel it in his body. A future with a family…Viktor wasn’t sure he deserved it. He knew he didn’t.

_ Of course you don’t, _ he heard his self-talk voice, a voice that reminded him of Yakov.  _ You don’t have to earn this _ . As soon as he thought the words, Viktor began repeating them like a mantra in his head.  _ You don’t have to earn this _ .

 

Yuuri pushed open the door to the dining room, muttered a quick good morning before dropping down next to Viktor and leaning his head against shoulder. “I’m going back to sleep,” he said as he closed his eyes. “Wake me up after World Team Trophy.”

Viktor shot a glance at Mari and began tickling Yuuri’s nose. “But you just got here. And besides—aren’t you my fan? Don’t you want to see me in my  _ last ever _ competition?”

“We have WiFi.” Yuuri swatted blindly at Viktor’s hand.

“Don’t you want to compete? WTT is the most fun because there’s the least pressure, you know,” Viktor said as he began bouncing his shoulder underneath Yuuri’s head

“Never done it before, so no, I don’t know. Stop moving your shoulder,” Yuuri said. Viktor turned his body, pulling the shoulder away. Yuuri groaned, but sat up straighter. “Jerk.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Viktor’s face brightened into a wide smile. “Aww, you Han Solo’d me.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and said, “Can you freeze me in carbonite now?”

“Alex Garrison will be so proud,” Viktor replied.

“Unlike you, I actually  _ had _ a sense of international culture before I went to Detroit.”

“ _ Pop _ culture and culture are two different things,  _ zoloste _ .”

“You’re not denying it, Vitya.”

Viktor ran his fingers through his bangs, then flipped them away from his face. “American movies aren’t the only things that exist in pop culture. I read a lot of books.”

Yuuri scoffed. “From the nineteenth century.”

“What’s wrong with the nineteenth century?”

“Everything.”

Mari coughed. “Yuuri’s lying,” she said. “He had an entire phase with the Shinsengumi and the Bakumatsu. He did a routine to the score from  _ Rurouni Kenshin _ .”

“No one asked you,  _ Neechan _ .”

“When do the cameras start rolling? The world needs to know that you’re a gigantic nerd.”

“Maybe like a medium-sized nerd,” Yuuri said.

Viktor laughed. “Phichit showed me the cosplays,  _ Yuu-tan _ .” Next to Viktor, the Japanese siblings froze. Viktor gently poked Yuuri’s side. Slowly, then all at once, Yuuri’s face flushed bright red.

Mari smirked and switched to Japanese. “Didn’t know you had a kink like that, little brother,” she said with a grin. “Don’t be shy now; nothing can shock me. I had this boyfriend once who—”

“Stop!” Yuuri hid his face in his hands and shook his head. “I don’t want to know about your sex life, and I  _ don’t _ want you to know about mine!” He stood abruptly, rattling the table. Without another word, or even a glance at Viktor, he left the room.

In the silence that followed, Mari turned her eyes on Viktor. “Did he tell you what that meant, or did you pick it up from anime?”

“Would it make him look better if I said anime?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**April 7, 2016, Mid-Afternoon – Hasetsu, Japan**

In the Ice Castle special events room, Matt Palermo leaned back in his seat and gestured for the camera woman to stop filming. “Okay, I think that’s more than enough. You can cut.” He stood and offered Viktor a hand. “You doing okay?”

Viktor took the offered hand, stood and stretched. He took a deep breath and released it. “Well,” he said, “that was only a thousand times harder than I expected it to be.”

Palermo patted him on the shoulder. “You did great. You’re doing great.”

“I hope so, for your sake,” Viktor replied. “Your studios are investing a lot of money in this project.”

“No amount of money compares to the kind of emotional bravery and maturity that you’ve been demonstrating, Viktor,” Palermo said. “You and Yuuri both.”

“I bet sports journalism seemed a lot less dramatic when you decided to switch over from competing.”

“There’s drama everywhere,” the journalist replied with a shrug. “Taking that drama and turning it into something positive, though…that’s the hard part, and that’s what makes these features worthwhile. Seriously, Viktor, it takes a lot of courage for you to do what you’re doing, and you’re going to inspire loads of people.”

Viktor grinned and flipped his hair out of his face. “That’s what they keep telling me. Do you know if Yuuri’s done with his interview yet?”

Palermo pulled his phone from his pocket. “Nothing from Hisashi yet, so they must still be at it. I guess that means the three of us have some down time.”

“Great,” the camera woman said. She packed up the camera and tripod quickly. “I’m going to go back to the onsen and call my husband. If you need me, text me.” She left the room, phone already in hand, and disappeared behind the closing door.

For a brief moment in the silence, the two men locked eyes, then Viktor looked away. “Sorry,” he said. “Until recently, very few people knew about my family or my sexuality. Talking about it so openly, it’s…”

“I would say your secret’s safe with me, but…”

Viktor laughed. “Yesterday, I felt so liberated. Today, though, I don’t know. Everything seems unreal.” He fell back into his seat, sloped haphazardly in the plastic. After a moment, he pushed himself upright. Leaning forward, he said, “Matt, can I ask you a question?”

Palermo sat back down, mirroring Viktor’s posture in the natural way of a practiced interviewer. “Sure. I think I’ve asked you enough for today, after all.”

Viktor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What was it like when you retired?”

The reporter didn’t reply and instead stared at Viktor, eyes probing the the skater on the edge of his last competition. Eventually, he seemed to spot what he was looking for and let out a sigh. “Rough,” Palermo said. “The year after the Olympics, my partner and I took bronze in the GPF, were US champions, and got silver at 4CC. We were having a great time, but then Kori sprained her wrist and we came in fifth at Worlds. The wrist healed quickly, but we started fighting about nothing, arguing when we should’ve been practicing. We had a really rough season after that, and by the end of it, we were both ready to be done with each other.

“When we called it quits, it was like the world fell out from under me. I stopped talking to Kori completely, stopped talking with my old coach and my old rinkmates. It was like I’d gone from having a huge network around me to just being alone all the time. I drank a lot and smoked so much weed in those first few months. I was hugely depressed, but also still angry with Kori.

“It wasn’t until Kori and I had a scare with a stalker that I got over myself and apologized to her for being such an ass. Kori pushed me into AA, and then that led to real therapy. After we reconciled and got back into shape, we spent a couple of years doing ice shows, which eventually transformed into the reporting gig. Right now, I can say that I love my job and I love my life, but it was one of the rockiest transitions I’ve ever gone through.”

Viktor smiled, then patted Palermo on the shoulder once before removing his hand. “Thank you for being honest. I was worried you might tell me that it’s a breeze to let it all go.”

Palermo shrugged. “It might be for some people, but it wasn’t for me, and it probably won’t be for you. You’ve got a lot more stressors than I did, but you also have something I didn’t have right away when Kori and I quit. You have a good support system. I’m not saying it’ll be easy right away, Viktor, but I think you have everything in place for a good future after athletics.” He stood up again. “You’re going to be fine.”

Viktor pushed himself back out of the chair. Quickly and awkwardly, he pulled the reporter into a hug then let him go. “Thank you,” he said.

Both of their phones buzzed at the same time. Palermo opened his text quickly. “Looks like they just finished up.”

Viktor pulled out his phone.

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ Done over here _

_ Also _

_ I want you to change my name in your phone and never mention it again. _

_ She’s trying to embarrass me to death. _

 

Viktor rolled his eyes, opened his camera, then took a selfie with the biggest pout he could.

 

_ To Yuu-tan: _

_ {img} _

_ DO I HAVE TO???? _

_ IT’S SO CUTE AND I LOVE YOU _

 

_ From Yuu-tan: _

_ YES, VIKTOR. _

_ I told you I would never live it down. _

_ Now I will literally never live it down. _

_ If she sees that that’s what you saved me as in your phone, I will probably die. _

 

_ To Zoloste <3: _

_ {screenshot: contact info} _

_ FINE. _

_ NO FUN _

 

_ From Zoloste <3: _

_ Good. Now delete your message history. _

 

“Yuuri is a boring old man, if anybody asks,” he said to Palermo through an exasperated grin.

The reporter laughed. “You better invite me to the wedding.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get you a press badge,” Viktor said with a wink. “I’m sure it’ll be a top story everywhere but Russia.”

“Hopefully in Russia, too.” Palermo said. “Those laws are illegal on the international level; I’m sure it won’t be long now before the UN intervenes.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Viktor said. “But that would be nice.”

“It really would be.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**April 8, 2016, Mid-Morning – Hasetsu, Japan**

Yuuri and Viktor shook hands with each of the three members of the camera crew, and with both Morooka and Palermo.

Hiroko and Toshiya both stood near the main door, then bowed to their departing guests. “Please come again soon!” Hiroko said twice, first in Japanese and then in English for the foreign members of the team.

Palermo shook her hand, then Toshiya’s. “I hope to. This place is amazing.”

Toshiya bowed again. “ _ Arigatou _ ,” he said.

Once they were all through the door, Viktor pulled the five people and Yuuri into a group. He extended his arm as far as he could and snapped a selfie. He posted it quickly, tagging each of them, and within moments the likes started rolling in.

 

**v-nikiforov**

Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan

_ {img} _

Liked by  **phichit+chu** and  **2073 others**

**v-nikiforov** What a whirlwind two days filming with @morookahisashi from @TVAsahi and @mattpal86 from @NBCSN!! Catch the special in English and Japanese next week during #ISUWTT and be sure to tweet me when you’re watching! #figureskating #worldfigure #work #filmedonlocation #hasetsu #japan #onsensarethebest #yutopiakatsuki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK FOREVER AND A MONTH TO FINISH. Seriously, I stopped working on Days in the middle of April so that I could focus on my term papers (straight A's, baby) then spent all of May trying to get the creative juices back out of academic mode enough to start writing again. Of course, I couldn't just do that instantaneously, and I didn't start writing again until it was already June. I hated every single sentence that I wrote, and it took until the beginning of July to get a full chapter written, at which point I sent it to BluSkates, Denrhea and Songbirdsara for beta/editing purposes, but I wasn't satisfied with it. Super shoutouts to Sbs for letting me talk through everything I hated about the chapter and helping me find a way to revise it. It still took me over a month to rewrite the section that was awful, and I wasn't happy with what I'd written until literally 2 in the morning last night. Thanks again to all three of my writing pals, who all jumped into it today so that I can finally finally FINALLY post an update!
> 
> I have an outline for the rest of the story; it will end on either chapter 50 or 51. I'm going to try to have the whole thing written (and hopefully posted) before the academic year starts up for me at the beginning of September. That's my goal.
> 
> In the meantime of all of this, I've been doing a few other projects. I started a YouTube channel, I wrote an academic paper that's going to be published as a chapter in a book on race relations in the Portuguese diaspora, I saw Panic! at the Disco and Hayley Kiyoko in concert with my sister in Pittsburgh, I picked up more editorial work with my fellowship at the press, and I started planning out my independent study for the fall. At this point, almost everything I'm doing is either a complete distraction for my overworked brain or a highly stressful step to ensure that by this time next year (August 2019) I will be All But Dissertation in my PhD career with an impressive CV that can take me places after I do finish.
> 
> I only have four videos up, and I don't have much customized stuff going on, but here's a link to my YouTube channel if you're interested: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UChSTNvtKcik5LIfanjGvc2Q
> 
> For everyone who's been waiting the past however many months for this update, and for everyone who's found this story in the meantime (or even just today), THANK YOU for coming along with me on this fabulous rollercoaster of a ride. I will see you all in the comments and in the next chapter!


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